


Wait A Minute (girl!Mark/Eduardo)

by ohnvm



Series: Wait a Minute 'Verse. [1]
Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: F/M, Genderswap, girl!Mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-09
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:31:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 22,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohnvm/pseuds/ohnvm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <a href="http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/8388.html?thread=16834756#t16834756">prompt</a>
</p><p>: something of the self-induced <em>She's All That</em> transformation variety.</p><p>I should probably say I really actually haven't seen that film so this is possibly the most prompt-divergent fill you will ever read. You may comment in the thread itself. I just wanted to have a place to read it without having to click Expand All over and over. AHAHA I was under the assumption that this would fit in one entry but what in the balls</p><p>
  <b>ETA APRIL2012 - I would like to apologise for how indulgent and completely odd this fic is. I mean I would delete it but then I know how frustrating it is to want to read something and not find it there. So yeah, I won't delete this but (not to turn you off or anything) I also cringed so hard when I tried rereading it.</b>
</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [prompt](http://tsn-kinkmeme.livejournal.com/8388.html?thread=16834756#t16834756)
> 
> : something of the self-induced _She's All That_ transformation variety.
> 
> I should probably say I really actually haven't seen that film so this is possibly the most prompt-divergent fill you will ever read. You may comment in the thread itself. I just wanted to have a place to read it without having to click Expand All over and over. AHAHA I was under the assumption that this would fit in one entry but what in the balls
> 
> **ETA APRIL2012 - I would like to apologise for how indulgent and completely odd this fic is. I mean I would delete it but then I know how frustrating it is to want to read something and not find it there. So yeah, I won't delete this but (not to turn you off or anything) I also cringed so hard when I tried rereading it.**

This is what happened.

Mark is having a social experiment on gender stereotyping for her Sociology class.

But this is what _really_ happened.

As per usual, it's Dustin's fault.

They were really drunk. All of them. Like, Mark is just a sniff of vodka away from sliding towards the spectrum of completely fucking shitfaced and Dustin, Chris, and Eduardo were all sprawled around her in different angles. Mark's not sure what they were talking about then Dustin giggles high-pitched and proceeded to describe why he thinks the thought of Mark in high heels is funny.

"Dude," Chris laughs, slapping the foot of the table next to his face. "Shut up, I'm going to vomit if I laugh too much."

Which is kind of _ouch_ , you know? Mark can totally rock some fucking heels, her mother forced her to take _tango_ lessons when she was a sophomore in high school, okay? Just because she's not wearing heels 24/7 doesn't mean she can't. She slurs out the latter part of her indignation without mentioning the dubiously consensual tango course.

Eduardo snorts out a laugh that sounds a bit like he's choking but doesn't stop from rubbing circles around the bone of Mark's ankle placed on his lap. "Sure, you can," he says a little patronisingly. Then Dustin rattles out a bunch of things describing how _women_ act before comparing it to how _Mark_ acts.

Mark's actually not going to pretend to be a huge activist about this because she's not. She knows she's got a little internalised sexism in her and she usually doesn't mind it if Dustin and Eduardo get a little too sexist in their drunken spiels because Chris had always been there to school them like a boss about women not being savage beasts to pit against each other and really, Chris is enough.

But this has always been her insecurity, deep down (really really deep down). And yeah sure she can only think about it when she's drunk because then if she starts sobbing uncontrollably, she can pretend it's the alcohol and that she's actually crying about _Python_ or bugs but Mark didn't have the grandest time growing up, okay?

No one does, sure, but Mark had always been the odd one out among the odd one outs. She never really knew what to do to actually be considered as a person. Boys told her she was girl so she can't hang out with them cos she's got cooties (to which Mark responded with _fine, I wouldn't want to hang out with idiots anyway!_ and girls told her she wasn't _girly_ enough just cause she prefers to fence than to take ballet like every other girl was doing.) That had been in her early primary school years. Then High School happened and it seemed like everyone had been pairing off and Mark's actually already used to not giving the slightest fuck but then prom which had been required attendance happened and she ended up sitting next to the spiked punch all night.

That was a rather debilitating wake up call on how she's going to be alone for the rest of her life.

Then Eric happened.

Which, yeah, okay, it had happened because she was sitting next to the spiked punch and because she snatched the gin from the kid who was trying to add more alcohol in it just so she could drink from the bottle and be done with the night. She wasn't really someone who drank often so it isn't long before she's running towards the nearest bush behind the gym and puking her guts out. Eric found her lying next to the bush probably half an hour later and asked if she needed any help.

Then she maced him.

Which resulted to a night trying to soothe Eric's face with different types of things the first aid book suggests would lessen the pain after they managed to hobble around and break into a physics lab. All the suggestions failed but Mark was too drunk and Eric proved to be so exhausted he can practically doze off even if his entire soul hurt so they just passed out curled around each other behind the teacher's table.

Anyway, the point is, Eric had been the last person to at least make her feel like she's, well, attractive enough even if she generally has an outlook in life that could match any sarcastic pessimist you try to compare against her.

But whatever, Mark's been able to get over everything because she's in _Harvard_ , bitch. She doesn't need to be 'girly enough' when she's in the university almost everyone in her class could only dream about getting into (and boy, did they dream.) and she's comfortable enough with Chris, Dustin, and Eduardo so it's not like she's crying over this every single day.

But, well, she gets moments, okay? She's allowed her moments. Not only is she trying to get the fuck over of how she can't get into Final Clubs just because she bleeds every month (as if those men are better than women. As if they could bleed from their genitals and survive cramps and still be able to function enough to get a 98 on an exam) but she's also juggling those and trying to code a website that could change not only her life but the world's (fuck you, final clubs.)

So when Dustin said "oh my god, Mark in heels and in a dress," Mark decided that she's going to prove them the fuck wrong (fuck you, people who think 'nerds' can't be hot. Fuck you, people who immediately assume Mark's just code and nothing else).

  
—

  
It sort of slips out of Mark's mind the moment she scrambled over the toilet and threw up everything short of her internal organs the next day. Dustin follows her example, then Chris, then Eduardo and soon enough the four of them are piled on the floor of the small communal bathroom in their suite. Not that anyone else uses this but Mark. There are some things Mark is grateful to Chris for, and the unspoken rule that Mark gets to use this bathroom for herself is one of them.

"I hate everyone," Mark mutters with her face smushed directly under Eduardo's armpit as she slumps against him whilst he is slumped against the porcelain.

Chris pleads for everyone to stop shouting.

"No one's shouting, Chris," Mark snaps, annoyed that her brain feels like it's about to give birth to the spawn of satan.

"You love us," Dustin mutters from where he's cradling his face with his arms. Then he sighs dramatically and crawls to where Chris is leaning against the wall. "Why did we even drink last night?"

"Shut the fuck up," Chris hisses before leaning on Dustin's side.

Eduardo moves his body slowly until Mark is no longer sniffing his armpit. Mark lets her head fall back on Eduardo's shoulders, the roughness on his chin rubbing against Mark's cheeks. "Why are we in my bathroom" Mark tries to say but she was busy succumbing back to sleep, lulled by the quiet _thump_ , _thump_ , _thump_ of Eduardo's pulse and the soft sighs of Chris and Dustin as they drift away themselves.

The next time she manages to wake up, her head is considerably lighter and her eyelids no longer feel like they're full of gunk. Chris is already having fits over the fact that they drank not two weeks away from midterm exams and Eduardo is no longer inside the suite.

So you know _Exams_ , it's not like she had the time to waste on her face when they have exams and on top of Chris manhandling everyone on a colour-coded agenda stuck on the wall above the television, Mark has coding and Dustin is busy trying to ask Alice (whom Mark accidentally introduced him to — 'Hey Mark,' 'Hey Dustin', 'I'm Alice, I used to be Mark's roommate' 'Hey Alice, I'm currently Mark's roommate') to go out on a date, and Eduardo is busy with trying to please the 'right people'.

Then these happen in quick succession —

Alice, and by extension Christy (Alice's best friend) starts hanging out in their suite. Mark has no problem with this. She doesn't mind as long as they're not bothering her for anything that doesn't involve the betterment of coding and as long as they're not loud enough to bypass the huge chunks of noise-canceling headphones Mark invested in the moment she realises Dustin's snores could plow through several feet, walls not withstanding.

"Don't you get jealous of Mark?" Christy asks Alice. Mark stiffens minutely from where she's typing on her laptop. Dustin had been looming over her from behind a few minutes ago, trying to point out the many things he thinks would not work before heading for his room to change for a group date thing.

Alice doesn't hesitate in saying "no, it's just Mark"

Mark grits her teeth and ignores the sharp pang of hurt she feels in her gut pretending not to have heard them over the transition of one song to another. Mark pauses her playlist, infinitely self-destructive but thirsty for something that would ignite a spit-fire brilliance that only comes to her when she's angry at something. Or someone.

Christy snorts and goes "good point. I used to think she and Wardo —" Mark's fingers twitch over the keyboard, "are dating but yeaaaah no, he said so himself."

She drowns them out pretty soon after that.

Then Christy and Eduardo start dating because apparently they 'clicked'. Mark doesn't care. But she does spend more hours on her computer because no one is there to be a huge motherhen or fathercock or whatever it is that goes with Eduardo's knack of being a complete mamabear.

—

Chris looks at her with pity every time she goes out to grab more Red Bull so she just stays in her room unless it's necessary.

"Christ, Mark, quit sulking. You smell like you haven't showered in a week" is basically what Chris hollers at her when Dustin, Eduardo, Christy, and Alice all go out for a group date again, like they have to be together every single night.

"I'm not sulking," she says sulkily.

Then she finds herself getting hauled out the room, thrown down the couch, and sat on by a very belligerent Chris. "Chris," she whinges, face down on the couch with questionable stains. "Get off me"

"If I stand up, will you run?"

Mark rolls her eyes. Chris add more weight on where his ass is pressed on her back until she can't do anything but mutter a ugh fine, I'll stay. They sit through a round of morbid films, beers, a box of pizza, and copious amounts of tequila spread on the table in front of them.

"Why do I allow you to do this?" Mark slurs at Chris's general direction before passing out.

Which is how she finds herself accidentally listening in on to a conversation between voices that belong to the new OT4. She really was about to extract herself from between the back of the couch and Chris's octopus limbs when she hears her name. Mark freezes.

"I guess that makes sense," Christy ( _fuck you_ ) says.

"Who? Mark and Chris?" Then Dustin guffaws.

"Chris is gay," Eduardo.

"Fits. She's a lesbian isn't she?" Christy.

"Is she?" Dustin.

"No, she's just Mark."

"Yeah, man. Mark is Mark, you know? She's our friend." Dustin.

"Christy is jealous of her," Alice chimes in.

"You shouldn't be," Eduardo's voice is soft like when he's trying to lure her away from the computer to eat something. "You have no reason to. She's just... Mark"

Chris's arm tightens around her. Mark's not sure whether to be thankful that she has something physical to stop her from punching things.

 _Just_ Mark.

What the fuck does that even mean?

Just _Mark_.

She can code circles around them. She has the highest fucking IQ among them. She's a member of _MENSA_.

 _Microsoft_ wanted to buy something she made when she had been bored.

The Harvard network crashed for a website she created when _drunk_.

She was MVP on fencing and she can fucking _tango_.

 _Just Mark_. As if all those things are automatically cancelled out by her lack of interest in looking socially acceptable.

 _Just Mark_.

Mark will fucking show them.

  
—


	2. Chapter 2

  
_Hey want to grab some lunch?_

 _Where are you?_

 _Mark, where are you?_

 _Hey, Dustin said you didn't attend your OS class, are you okay?_

 _Where are you?_

 _Answer your phone_

Mark ignores each and every text and tries not to wince as the woman from the waxing salon rips away what feels like the entire epidermis of her legs. If Mark's being honest with herself, she can see why what she's doing is ridiculous. She's gotten over it. She gets really angry and yes, she lashes out. But if time passes, and she doesn't get the satisfaction of vengeance within the same day, Mark usually lets it go and moves on. Holding grudges against people is a waste of time unless that someone did something unforgivable.

But Eduardo — Eduardo isn't just _someone_. Dustin isn't just someone. Chris isn't just someone. They're her, god just punch her in the face please, _friends_ and when — oh what the hell, when she lets people become her friend (or when people let her be their friend, whichever comes first), Mark learns to make a space in her attention for them. The moment she starts giving a shit about someone who is as persistent as them is the same moment she starts giving a shit about what they might think of her.

This is the very same reason why Mark would backtrack and admit to being mean to Chris, Eduardo, and Dustin. Because she — _fuck it_ — wants them to like her because she… likes them and she doesn't want to give them a reason to… leave her.

Mark tries not to gag on the sheer amount of _feelings_ in her thoughts and concentrates on chewing the pillow underneath her as the woman pulls another strip of hair.

"Would you like to try our Brazilian, honey?"

Mark snorts out a laugh before muttering "I have my own Brazilian, thanks," then vehemently states that no, she is not ready for getting a Brazilian on her vagina.

Her phone rings again when she was looking around the lingerie area of the mall. Mark lets it go to voicemail and tries not to get lost in the sea of things that do not make any sense to her. She tries to remember all the things Exeter taught women during Sex Ed, then tries to remember what size her mom buys her bras in.

When she fails in remembering something that she should know, Mark sneaks off to the fitting room and peeks at the size printed on the paper attached to the bra she's wearing. Huh.

She goes back out and gathers a few things that she thinks Eric would love her in. A girl who looks vaguely familiar approaches her with a perky smile. "Hi," the girl greets. "I work here."

Mark blinks at her.

"I'm Marilyn. You know, from Sociology?"

Mark continues to draw a blank.

"I'm from Kirkland," Marilyn further explains. "You used to be in the room across mine until you moved downstairs."

Mark doesn't —

"We met during _Incest_. I was Harry Potter and you said my lightning bolt is on the wrong side of my forehead."

"Oh"

"You don't remember, do you?"

"To be fair I was drunk and I don't remember a lot of people even when I'm sober," Mark says, trying not to look like she's socially incompetent.

Marilyn laughs and looks at the bras Mark's clutching. "Do you... need any help?"

"No—"

A raised eyebrow.

"—okay yeah, yeah actually I do."

Mark is terrified of the smile Marilyn flashes her way.

  
—

  
"So do you have someone to impress," Marilyn asks, trying for small talk as Mark sulkily fits the third bra they managed to agree on. Mark tries not to slam her head against the door.

"No,"

Silence.

"Yes,"

Her phone vibrates in the pockets of her cargo shorts. Mark picks it up, unable to pry her eyes away from her cleavage. Her _cleavage_. _An actual cleavage_. "What is it?" she mumbles to the phone, voice a little awed.

"Mark, for fuck's sake, where are you? I've been worried sick."

"Wardo," She breathes out, then clears her throat. "None of your business"

 _ACTUAL CLEAVAGE_

"Where are you?" Wardo sounds a little angry.

"Out. Why?"

A few moments of silence from the other end then she hears Wardo sigh in defeat. Mark can tell he's pinching the bridge of his nose even if she can't see him. "We're going out tonight, you, me, Chris, and Dustin, it's been a while."

She snorts a little bitterly.

"Mark,"

"Yeah fine, I'll be there." _with a cleavage_ , she doesn't add. "Where is it?"

"Where else. Eight o'clock?"

"Whatever."

Mark ends the call and opens the curtain where Marilyn's waiting. A man standing a few feet away drops the cup of coffee he's holding and stares at Mark's chest.

Mark is suddenly excited for tonight.

"So—" Marilyn smirks knowingly.

Mark rolls her eyes and tries not to think this must be what having girl friends feel like.

"Fine, help me."

  
—

  
Mark finds herself in Marilyn's dorm room half an hour later, which, yeah, Mark remembers her now. Vaguely. In hazy memories of stumbling in her room instead of the one she shared with Alice because she's too drunk to slot her key in properly.

She didn't think Marilyn would actually go all the way in helping her to the point that Marilyn took a half day at work but Mark's not… Mark's not complaining.

"You know," Marilyn sighs with an air of frustration after the fifth time Mark managed to smudge the eyeliner smeared on her eyelid. "You could stop with the unnecessary blinking"

"You're just bitter I won't wear the skirt,"

"Don't be stupid," Marilyn snaps, "Yeah, fine but you said you wanted to go all out—"

"No, I didn't. And it's New England!"

Marilyn has a look that tells Mark she sees right through her. "I've seen you running across the Square in your _flip-flops_ during _winter_ , Mark. Don't even."

Mark thinks Marilyn's being unfair. But yeah, sure, okay Mark's not comfortable enough to wear something that would show how bony her knees look and how pale her legs are especially since she tried on the skirt Marilyn threw her way earlier and her legs looked like toothpicks. Why is everything so incredibly complicated? Why is Mark even born a girl? Why is Mark even born at all? She doesn't get it.

Marilyn sighs knowingly but she doesn't say anything. Mark likes her.

Mark sort of started feeling ridiculous halfway through the whole ordeal and just started to make excuses that aren't really just excuses because she really actually needs to start coding soon or else this idea of hers wouldn't take off but she receives a quelling look.

"You're in Psychology, right?" Marilyn asks while Mark stares at the stain on the ceiling so she wouldn't blink as Marilyn reapplies the eyeliner.

"No, I switched to CS"

"Oh, so that's why I don't see you in W. James?"

Mark hmms in acknowledgement and tries not to move in case Marilyn gets too annoyed and stabs her in the eye.

"I'm thinking of getting pre-law next year, actually"

"That's good. You're very good at — prying."

Marilyn laughs and pulls out a comb before staring at Mark's hair with intense determination.

Mark gulps.

—

  
Dustin hits on her not three seconds when she stepped in the pub.

The look on Dustin's face when he realises this is worth the extra amount of effort she had to put by walking around the lawn instead of through it in case the ground is damp enough to sink her heels.

Mark tries not to look smug but fails.

She can definitely feel smug about this, okay? She's wearing, well okay it's not exactly what some women refer to as sexy but it's sexy enough for Mark who is used to just stealing random shirts thrown haphazardly around their suite when she runs out of things to wear, but yeah, she's wearing a blank tank top that shows off her spectacular (enough) cleavage, a pair of black skinny jeans that she had to jump around Marilyn's dorm to get into, eye make up (' _simple but does the job_ ', Marilyn commented) and these fucking ankle boots that Mark had to swear her laptop, her family, Eduardo, Dustin, Chris, and her life that she would take care of and guard with the ferocity of a three headed dog just so Marilyn would let her borrow them (as if Marilyn wasn't the one who shoved them on Mark's feet even when Mark already told her she has a pair of Choos her sister gave her after finding out she got into Harvard even after the interview with the dean of FAS)

"Kindly pick your jaw off the floor, Moskovitz," she says smugly before leading him to the table where Chris is nursing a beer.

Chris spits out his drink.

"Wha—?"

"Hello, _Christopher_ ," She greets and yeah, okay her face is definitely showing how smug she is because Chris wrinkles his nose then pats the empty seat next to him. Then pulls away the front of Mark's tank top and looks down her cleavage.

Dustin squawks indignantly but Mark is too busy staring at her cleavage as well.

"If I wasn't gay, I'd totally hit on you," Chris raises an index finger and pokes her cleavage before letting go of the blouse and wiping the spatter of the beer he spat out on the table.

Mark raises a perfectly arched eyebrow.

Chris amends his statement. "If you haven't sat on one of my World Lit papers and accidentally _bled_ on it, I'd totally hit on you."

"Ew, Chris." Dustin whines, pretending to cover his ears with his hands.

"What, it's true," he turns back to Mark and touches her hair. "How did you even tame that thing? It looked like a dead animal now it's all… soft and… wavy enough. A little."

"Magic." She quips, noticing the empty space next to her that Eduardo usually occupies when they're at Shay's. "Where's Eduardo?"

Dustin sighs and tilts his head to the table where Eduardo is eating Christy's face.

Well then.

"I thought it was supposed to be just us?" Mark asks trying not to put any inflections on her voice just in case Chris gets the wrong idea. Not that there's any idea to begin with. She's just — disappointed that Eduardo wanted to hang out with them yet there's … her.

"He arrived here with Christy," Chris shrugs. "To be honest if Dustin brought Alice with him, I'd probably just go out somewhere else. The night is young etcetera etcetera"

"Aw shucks. Alice didn't want to go since she thought it'd be an all guy's night you know?"

"What am I, _a lobster_?" Mark snaps, mostly because she's feeling ridiculous in her outfit now even if she has no idea why Eduardo being here is congruent to how she feels about what she's wearing. Besides, Shay's just, what, a three minute walk from Kirkland and most people here are in casual attire so it's mildly distressing that she's wearing something she considers as non-casual.

Dustin has the decency to look a little embarrassed. "Hey come on you know what I mean, right? I mean you're one of us, man—I mean, woman. I mean girl, I mean—"

Chris sit back and drink huge gulps.

"Don't strain yourself," she cuts in but softens the blow with what she hopes is a reassuring tilt on her lips. "I'm going to get more beer. Stella?"

She doesn't wait for their answers seeing as she's always been the one to sidle up to the bar for their drinks when they're all already shitfaced anyway because they thought she has exceptional balancing skills, drunk or no so she'd be able to maneuver herself enough that drinks wouldn't spill (thanks to tango, which Mark still hasn't shared with them because why would she even need to). Except this time no one bumps into her because they're busy parting in the middle and staring. Mark tries not to pull up her tanktop.

"Six Stellas," she yells over the loud music once she finally gets to lean on the bar without stepping on anyone's toes that heavily.

The bar man blinks at her. "Are you new?"

She doesn't even regale that with an answer. " _Stellas_. Six."

"Rightio," he grins at her. Except it's more smile than grin, to be honest.

This is blowing Mark's mind. What, you only need to flash some breasts and men would respect you?

Mark sees a very familiar profile sitting next to her.

"Eric?"

Eric blinks at her, taking in her shoes, jeans, shirt, cleavage, and finally her face before —"Mark?"

"Yeah," she answers and tries not to fidget, feeling a strange need to have Eric like what he sees. Which doesn't make any sense because she doesn't care about Eric anymore, what the hell?

"Did you lose a bet?"

She ignores the jibe and counters with "I think you're lost. This is Harvard, not a _set of buildings_ sprawled around to pass as a campus"

"Oh, you really are Mark," he quirks up a mean little smirk. "For a second there I was hopeful that you were replaced by a human."

Mark was about to retort when a pale hand wraps around Eric's arm.

"Hey Eric, is there a problem?"

Well.

Mark looks at her and notices how she's basically the upgraded and much more feminine (whatever the fuck that means) version of Mark. Same curls, but less like pubic hair.

"No," Eric says, brushing his hand lightly on top of the girl's like the way he, fuck it, like the way he used to do to Mark's when Mark climbs on top of him back in Exeter. He looks back to Mark. "You look good, Marcella. See you around."

Mark bristles at the use of her name, intending to follow them and, what, she's not really sure what she wants to do but she wants to ruinsomething, but the barman places six bottle in front of her.

She heads back to her table ignoring what feels like a boulder stuck in her throat.

  
—

  
Mark comes back to the table to find that Eduardo finally extricated his tongue away from Christy's person. "So you finally decided to grace us with your presence, good sir."

Eduardo turns.

His mouth drops.

"Mark?"

"Wardo," she says, climbing on the chair next to where Eduardo isn't even sitting but just casually resting his knee on it like he's not even planning to stay.

 _Typical_.

"Hi, I'm sorry, I know I promised to stay but Christy says there's this thing at Mount Auburn and I—"

"Want to suck the cocks of Phoenix Bigs so you could get in. Got it."

"Mark!" Chris snipes out.

Eduardo's face sours. "What's your problem?"

"Nothing"

"And why are you _dressed_ like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like—" Eduardo flounders. " _That_ ".

"Because I want to suck cocks too," Chris slams his hand on the table hard enough that the beers Mark brought shook. Dustin tries to look as invisible as possible but Mark ignores them. "But I stayed here because you asked me to because you said you wanted to hang out, _just the four of us_ but now you're just wasting our time because you're with that— that—" Mark tries desperately to call Christy a whore, a bitch, an easy lay except every feminist cell Chris managed to drill into her brain fights against it. "Her." She finishes lamely.

"Don't worry, Mark, I'm just going to leave now so you can go suck all the cocks you want. Sorry for wasting your _precious_ time."

Christy sidles up to them from another table and looks confusedly at the stand off between her boyfriend and Mark. Then blinks as confusedly at Mark's shoes.

"Hot shoes," Christy blurts as if on instinct. Mark was about to say _thank you_ because they really are hot shoes but Eduardo looks like something dawned on to him.

"You know," he starts voice so fucking condescending it makes Mark want to claw his face, "if you want to seem pretty, all you have to do is stop being such a heartless bitch." Then he is gathering his coat from the back of Mark's chair and heading out the pub with Christy in tow.

Dustin stares at the table. Chris is alternately glaring at Mark and at the door like he can't decide who to be angry at first. Mark gulps down her beer and tries, desperately, to blink back the sudden burn of tears behind her eyes.

—

In the end, Mark was left alone at the table.

Chris leaves first, saying he's got other plans.

Dustin stays stubbornly. Matching Mark bottle after bottle, shot after shot. But soon the occasional texts on his phone become calls and Mark tells him he's free to go to Alice if he wants. Dustin stays for two more hours, trying to pull Mark out the pub to walk her back to the suite under some sense of chivalry just because he's seen her cleavage.

To be honest she's, if she isn't this ready to get herself intoxicated she would have been extremely uncomfortable with what she's wearing especially now when she's left on her own. Mark might not pay attention to gossip but she's not deaf and she knows what terrible things happen to women who are in the wrong places at the wrong time.

But Mark stays and moves to the bar, shrugging on the jacket Dustin left for her. She thinks if she keeps up with drinking every time she gets feelings, Mark would probably need to be put into rehab before she even reaches twenty five. And she's still a fucking heartless bitch apparently.

How would it feel to have a heart then? If this is how awful she already feels about herself without one?

Men and women try to chat her up but she ignores all of them, choosing only to nurse more alcohol until she gets cross-eyed trying to reach for the right shot glass in her triple vision.

"Don't mace me," is what she hears. Incredibly familiar. So very very familiar like the days Mark spent in his bed in Exeter, sometimes choosing to stay in his dormitory instead of walking two corners to her house. Like the Saturday nights when she offers as best she could if he'd like to go home with her without really outright offering, and the early Sunday mornings when she'd wake up and find him sprawled on the floor next to her bed because she apparently kicks in her sleep.

Mark never mentioned not feeling things.

Mark never mentioned not at least liking Eric.

Most people in their secondary school would know just by the way Mark used to wait for him out his Calculus course because her class gets dismissed earlier than his during Mondays and Wednesdays. But people in college wouldn't know that.

She thinks Wardo and the others assumed it had been nothing but a one sided relationship because she wasn't crying into her pizza and beer the night they broke up but fuck's sake, she almost got _expelled_ after it. That has to be worse than sobbing, right? But feelings aren't feeling if it doesn't fit the social norms. Feelings are tears, and feeling pathetic.

At least Mark feels half of that and she's pretty sure she almost cried just after it hit her that Eduardo used " _seem_ pretty". Not even "look pretty"; Like she can't ever be pretty at all.

"Hello," she slurs out, raising a shot glass in his direction before trying to knock it back without getting any of it in her nostrils. "This is vaguely reminiscent of something"

She's not drunk enough not to think but she is on her way.

Mark looks at Eric who's smiling fondly at her. She thinks maybe she's starting to hallucinate. "Let's walk you home, Marcella," he says like he used to say every three in the afternoon for two years.

She chortles at the thought. "Where's, er, her?"

Eric doesn't even take a second to keep up. "I already walked her home, Mark. I came back because I left my key. And my ex girlfriend apparently."

"What's that mean?"

"David begged me to take you away from here."

"Who?"

"The bartender, Mark. He saw us talking earlier so he thought it's okay to beg me to take you away from the bar because you're, what were his words… hmmm trying to get alcohol poisoning."

Mark tries to pull her head up from where it's resting on her right arm just so she could glare at the man watching them from the farthest side of the bar. David shrugs unrepentantly.

"I don't think I can walk, to be honest," but she moves to her feet and reaches down to kick off Marilyn's shoes and holds them on her right hand.

Eric gives her another smile and doesn't help her stand up. He knows her enough not to try unless she's about to risk impalement.

  
—

  
In the end, Mark doesn't get to blow any cocks. Not that she was really planning to do that anyway.

She tries to kiss Eric though.

He lets her for few seconds, enough so Mark wouldn't feel _hurt_ , before pushing her away gently.

That was really stupid. She says this aloud, feeling his boner against her stomach through the layers of clothing between them.

"Yeah," he says, sounding a little choked.

Eric still tries to walk her back to Kirkland even after that.

Which is stupid because it's just across the street.

Which isn't really stupid because the three minute walk turned into an hour because she's busy puking into another bush. Eric pats her back sympathetically as she groans from what feels like a lava pouring out her throat.

  
—

  
In the end, Mark asks Eric, "do you — I mean, do you think—was I — did I look _okay_ … for you? Before, I mean. Did I at least look adequate?" in a really pathetic voice she'd be able to deny using come morning since she's got alcohol in her. That's the convenience of drinking. Because now she has an excuse for feeling like she was being trampled on by a thousand gorillas with the thought of how quick Eric seemed to have gotten over her. Because it's only been what, four months?

The boulder in her throat from earlier feels like it grew into a mountain at some point and Mark reaches up to touch her neck just to make sure she didn't actually grow an Adam's Apple.

Mark is somehow horizontal on the yard of Kirkland, staring up at Eric who she may have managed to pull down by her weight.

It takes Eric five seconds to answer her but Mark doesn't take offense because fuck it, she _knows_ Eric more than he does to any other guy, except maybe her brothers. Maybe even more than her brothers. And certainly more than Chris, Dustin, and Eduardo. She knows him enough that she doesn't get offended when he's trying to get his bearings like he used to when Mark gets all weird like this. And she had asked him the same thing before. Well, not exactly _asked_ , but more like stated her disbelief on why he's even dating her when he could get someone who, fuck, someone who is more on his level of attractiveness.

She had been on a coding binge for hours and Eric was trying to pry her away to go to some party. The whole thing descended to a rather huge argument in which Eric kept on asking _I don't even know why I'm with you, fuck my life_ aloud to which Mark, after minutes of trying not to say anything, responded with a quiet _neither do I_. Eric's seen her like that. Eric knows she can get like that and he's the only person Mark can say she isn't that embarrassed to start weeping at because he's known her when she was still _Marcella Elliot_ , awkward and trying but failing and never quite getting anything right, so he's literally seen her at her worst.

"Yeah," Eric breathes out, brown eyes reflected by the street lamp as he tries to haul her up gently until she's sitting. The back of Dustin's jacket is damp from the grass she half-sprawled on. She thinks about her bitten nails and her hair that she refused to cut after so many ' _good morning, si—ma'am_ 's and so many ' _mister zuckerberg_ 's. She thinks about Eric who kissed her and yelled at her and called her a bitch but is still here right now just cause he thinks she needs him even if he has a girlfriend. Even if Mark had been infinitely crueler to him than she had to been cruel Eduardo. "You're — you're beautiful, Marcella. You always have been."

She allows him to put a hand under her arms after that, Mark stumbling but leaning her face on the familiar smell of his skin, both ignoring the dampness Mark's cheeks leave on his neck as they climb one more set of stairs than necessary ("ugh no, not in there, I can't do this tonight" "where then?" "436") and knocked on Marilyn's door. Then she is getting maneuvered with their hands until she is in a shirt that doesn't feel cold; until she is curled on Marilyn's bed.

"Eric," she thinks she mutters out as she sees his silhouette grow smaller and smaller in front of the hallway light. "Hey _Eric_."

"Mark?"

"You look… not bad. Yourself."

Eric huffs out a laugh. "You are beautiful no matter what they say, Mark. Words can't bring you down."

"Fuck off," she replies weakly, burrowing even deeper under the blanket Marilyn threw on her.

"You too, Marcella," but his tone is soft and his eyes looked fond.

Mark immediately uncoils from the tight ball she curved herself in, the familiarity of Eric's voice still echoing in her ears, lulling her to sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

  


They don't talk about it.

They don't talk about that night.

In fact, they don't talk at all.

Eduardo visits the suite but he pretends Mark doesn't exist.

Chris is still angry enough to ignore her.

Dustin — Dustin's a surprise because he tries to coach her out when he gets back from wherever he goes. He walks in her room and asks about codes Mark pretty sure he already knows about. Sometimes, he even brings his laptop and they have a two-person Hackathon.

But mostly, there is no talk.

Which is good because Mark is too busy trying to code _TheFacebook_ back to life to socialise anyway.

Or to attend her most of her classes.

Or to be bothered with her hair, her face, the way she dresses, the way she speaks. The way she feels like something within the vicinity of her chest is missing.

Or to eat.

Mark would head for Marilyn's dorm because Marilyn doesn't ask questions. But

"Mark," she says on t  
he fifth night Mark appeared in front of her door. "You need — do you need to talk or something?"

Mark just twists her lips disgustedly and resolves not to come back.

During the times she knows Chris, Dustin, and Eduardo would be in the suite, Mark would head to JCR and curl up in one of its huge sofas. The common room is always loud and full of life and she starts staying there enough that two or three people would nod her way and invite her to their conversation. Mark always declines. Sometimes, she would just sit and observe people, blinking at them owlishly from her perch trying to figure out something that would make TheFacebook different. Most of the time, she wires in, shutting out the chatter around her that seemed to trickle down every time Mark pauses to crack her fingers.

She climbs back to their suite the next morning when she's sure she won't encounter the three when they're all busy attending classes.

Dustin shoots her worried looks that she ignores on the OS course they share. Mark walks from the room as quickly as she can after the professor dismisses them.

She does not take the shuttle to Dworkin to avoid Chris. She's not usually like this. Mark doesn't avoid confrontations with people except, like she said, Chris, Dustin, and Eduardo aren't _just people_. And when we she thinks about it during the moments when she takes a break from coding, Mark would feel this incredible loneliness so she just opts not to see them in fear of, ugh Mark doesn't _know_ , but she's afraid she might do something even more pathetic. Like cry. Or apologise when she doesn't even know what she's done wrong or why Chris doesn't even try to talk to her.

When she stumbled in their suite the day after Eric carried her to Marilyn's room, Chris just sent her a look like she ruined his night. Mark is so tired of that and she doesn't want to see it again.

Sometimes, she bikes to her classes when she feels like going. Sometimes, she even walks, enjoying the sanctity and trying to get used to being alone for the rest of her life. _It isn't that bad_ , she thinks. Less people to worry about. To try to please. To disappoint.

Eric texts her occasionally. It started the morning of That Night She's Not Talking About when Eric texts her just as she was leaving Marilyn's dorm: _ur not dead?_. She replies with _it's 'you're', dumbass_. Mark thought that had been a miscalculation but a few minutes later, she sees a _sweetest girl ever, my ex girlfriend_.

She gets two weeks of being alone and zoning in on TheFacebook. It's nice. It's almost perfect actually. But she needs… financing because Mark can tell this is going to be huge. Like. Bigger than MySpace. And Friendster. Because this is hers and Mark's best at coding.

Mark wires in some more.

She doesn't do anything else but code. She doesn't think of anything else but code.

At the three-weeks mark of Not Talking, her period comes as if to remind her how awful life is and she is wracked by intense cramps and a blinding migraine, she just opts to forgo leaving the bathroom in their suite in favour of curling up right by the toilet bowl just in case she starts vomiting acid again.

Eduardo nearly knocks out the bathroom door after Mark lets out a particularly loud heave.

"Mark?" Then Mark hears the knob twist frantically, the loud pounding on the wood is keeping in tune with the loud pounding in her head. "Mark, i know you're in there. Open the door."

She blindly reaches up for anything and manages to grip her shampoo before throwing at the door and choking out a _shut the fuck up_ and burying her face in the toilet again because her brain is angry at her for moving and speaking.

"Mark, what's going on? Open the door"

Mark can't even move her toes without her vision flashing.

She spends the night in the bathroom and wakes up feeling miserable. She turns the knobs until the water feels less like it came straight from the Antarctic and crawls in the shower, barely remembering the last time she washed her hair.

When she finally stumbles into their common room wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around her, Mark is surprised to find Chris, Dustin, and Eduardo sitting on the large couch all looking exhausted and sleepless.

What day is it?

It's Wednesday right?

Don't they have classes?

Fuck them, they're not the ones who has to deal with tampons.

"Mark," it's Dustin.

She stops right by her door but doesn't turn to look.

"Mark, are you alright? We heard you in there, do you —"

Ugh. Mark doesn't want to _hear_ Eduardo's voice right now even if he sounds more like himself than he did That Night (heartless bitch. Mark will show him how much of a heartless bitch she is) so she steps into her room and locks the door. It's not  
like she can talk anyway. Her throat is so fucked up.

"Oh get your head out of your ass, and get out your room NOW." Chris yells out from outside her door a while later as Mark slips on the first pair of clean panties she manages to pull out her drawer.

Normally, she would at least be swayed by his tone but her uterus is still in mutiny against her so Mark really couldn't care less.

 _Heartless_. _Bitch_.

She grabs her headphones from the table, puts them on, curls up on her bed, and tries to sleep the dismenorrhoea away.

  
——

  
"When was the last time you ate?"

Dustin asks as Mark walks in the suite a few days after she spent consecutive nights either coding in JCR, or in the lab downstairs, or in the house library, or in Widener when she doesn't feel like even going back to Kirkland because they might ambush her again.

"This morning," which isn't exactly a lie. Mark ate a hot pocket from the mess hall. Dustin winces at hoarseness of her voice.

"Where's Alice?" And Chris. And Eduardo.

"Not here"

"Why?" she asks, genuinely curious because Dustin was practically glued to her hip before.

He looks a little sheepish. "I broke up with her," he says, bowing his head like he's embarrassed.

Mark blinks. "Why? You like her right?"

Why is Mark even asking.

"Yeah," Dustin whispers. Then walks right up to Mark and pulls her into a surprise hug. Mark tries not to pull away for the sake of not being a heartless bitch to someone who just broke up with their girlfriend because she knows how breaking up with someone feels even if Mark's case, she wasn't the one who did the breaking up. "Mark, Mark hey,"

"What?" She grits out then steps back because the hug was about to reach longer than two seconds.

Dustin ignores the question and starts yanking her to his room. "I have pizza, come eat with me,"

"No, your room is disgusting"

"Scanning for the fucks I give. Fucks not found. Come on, Mark,"

"I have to code,"

"No, _I_ have to code. I slacked off, huh?" He looks really apologetic that Mark lets herself be pulled into his room just so he'd stop looking like Mark threw out the miniature dinosaur set he scattered around the suite.

"It's okay, Dustin,"

She really is exhausted, come to think of it. She hasn't been horizontal for so long, her neck muscles feel permanently tense. She flops down bonelessly on Dustin's bed, legs dangling on its edge.

Dustin lies next to her.

"You said you have pizza,"

"Table"

"Get it,"

Dustin groans and twists until he's face down instead of standing up and getting the pizza he used to lure her in.

 _Fucker_.

"Why did you break up with Alice?"

Dustin groans some more. Mark feels a fond smile breaking on her face but tries to tamp it down.

And here's something only Dustin and Mark knows about: they became friends because they were the only people left in their OS class that weren't already picked out by another to become their partner.

If someone would ask Mark how she even started talking to Dustin she would say that he's the first person who actually had some interesting things to say to her. Which isn't exactly untrue because Dustin is intelligent, if a little childish. But they started talking because they had to and no one mentioned anything about being the last one picked out but Mark can tell Dustin was resigned to it.

They developed a camaraderie enough that when Mark starts bitching about the loud noises Alice made, Dustin just asks her to move in the suite with them. "Billy's dropping out anyway," he had said. And Chris nodded like it's the most natural thing in the world. It was the first time Mark felt like a person not like a poor excuse for a female or a man born into a female body.

It also didn't hurt that they aced the freshman OS class: a great _Fuck You_ to the people in it who didn't want to pick them but went out of their way to ask for _their_ help once they realise how genius the pair of them were.

"Oh, this is good," Mark laughs at Dustin's face. "You're embarrassed. Tell me why or I'll hack your records and make you retake Bio"

He makes a strangled sound. Then he mumbles something to his duvet.

"Stop talking to your fucking blanket, my face is up here"

Dustin sighs but turns to his side anyway. "I said," he spits out, looking, for once, serious and somber, "she called you things. And I got angry. So I broke up with her."

"What?"

He glares.

"Why would you do that?"

"Because you're my friend, asshole"

Mark is still so confused about it, but that doesn't stop the stupid warmth suddenly gnawing on her insides. "I know that, but you _like_ her"

"Yes, I do. But you're my friend, okay? I can't let her call you a — something and just shrug it off."

"Dustin, I'm used to people calling me names and I really don't care," unless the names are from you, or Chris, or Eduardo, she doesn't add. Mark closes her eyes. Even her bones ache. "In the interest of updating my mental tally, what did she call me?"

"Mark—"

"A bitch?"

"Mark—"

"Cos I am a bitch, Dustin." That's the truth. In the last couple of weeks she spent alone, it had boiled down to her being a bitch or her being seen as a pathetic weakling. Mark had never been one for the latter. She may be a pathetic weakling inside, but she is a bitch through and through and she likes it that way. Otherwise, look what happens.

"Mark, I know you are. Believe me, I do. But that's badass and one of the reasons why you're my bro or sis or whatever. You're Mark"

Mark opens her eyes and sees Dustin blinking down at her seriously. She huffs out a bitter laugh.

"No, Dustin, I'm _just_ Mark, remember?"

"What?"

She knows enough that if anyone doesn't deserve her wrath, it's Dustin.

"Nothing," Mark sighs and pulls herself up until she can reach for the pizza box and put it between them on the bed.

"You're our friend, okay?" Dustin tells her a little while later when they're on their last slice. "We miss you even if you do nothing but make sarcastic comments on the movies we watch."

"Sure you do"

  
—

  
It gets easier for Mark to tap back to her feelings of _broliness_ after that. Because apparently, somewhere along the way, she — right, okay, she managed to somehow make friends with Marilyn and retain a casual friendship with Eric enough that both of them are friends themselves and would sometimes join forces to get Mark to lunch with them as if it's normal. They would watch her worriedly and they don't even bother to hide it. And on one of those lunches Eric put a hand on her shoulder and had said that, somehow,  
somewhere along the way during the span of Not Talking To The Three, Mark apparently got more stoney-faced and bitchier than she already had been.

Eric tells her "Mark, stop trying to be that kind of vindictive bitch", but in a way that has no malice. Just the bare, stripped down truth. "Stop being the _coward_ vindictive bitch."

The night after that, Mark sits on the other end of the couch from where Chris is lazily sprawled on.

She pulls her knees inches away from her chest so she could prop her laptop on them and code.

Chris sends her a surprised look, tearing his eyes away from the television to stare at her because it's been a while since she let herself outside her room and stay out when one of them is there.

She half-wires in.

"Shark week's on"

Mark looks to her side and meets Chris's eyes. "What?"

"Beautiful fish. Great white."

"O _kay_. Thanks."

Chris inches closer to her until their sides are touching. She feels his hand close around her arm.

She smiles, bewildered at the look on his face. "Hi, Christopher."

He slowly lifts her laptop away and puts it at the table. Mark lets him, curious of what Chris is up to.

Then Mark finds herself with an armful of Chris, holding her tight against his chest. "Hey, sorry. Mark, you're so stupid. We're sorry."

Mark doesn't exactly still know what there is to apologize for between them but whatever it is, Mark's not saying anything back.

Chris grins at her like he knows what she's thinking.

By ten in the evening, Chris is already lobbing the remote control at her head and she's already dodging it with a pillow.

"I'm going to bleach your coats, blondie," she shrieks as Chris pours beer down her neck.

"Try that and your laptop's dead,"

Mark feels giddy; the lightest she's felt in a while even as she gets a pizza thrown at her face.

She doesn't know what started this one, but it's a fight Mark's happy to participate in.

  



	4. Chapter 4

"What do you need a job for?"

"TheFacebook."

"You would serve _breakfast_ for TheFacebook? Mark, I've seen you trying to fry eggs and they turned out looking _mutant_ "

Mark throws Chris a glare before staring at her reflection on her laptop. "I need money before summer"

"Mark, you know Wardo wants to help out, right?"

It dawns to Mark that she hasn't called Eduardo as _Wardo_ for what feels like centuries. And also that this is the first time Chris even mentions his name ever since they started being normal around each other again. Mark knows Chris and Dustin still hang out with him, though. That he's busy with Phoenix and with Christy. They don't say his name when Mark's in the suite.

Which means, now that Mark's always in the suite, they don't mention Eduardo's name at all.

Mark doesn't know whether it's because they're afraid she might spiral back to not talking to them or because they know her enough that there's a possibility that she probably would stop talking to them again.

Sometimes, it surprises Mark how they could possibly know her more than she knows herself. At _some_ things, that is.

That's why Mark had to take a second to blink when Chris actually mentions Eduardo's name in this conversation, but Chris always had been blunt with her. More or less.

"He'll help, Mark. He knows a great idea when he sees one. Ask him."

Mark just shrugs. "Maybe."

She tries out for a job anyway.

She lasts approximately two days.

Then the Winklevi stops her as she turns around the corner on the way back to Kirkland after quitting her job.

"Are you Mark Zuckerberg?"

Mark blinks up and tries not to sprain her neck from tilting it back too much. "Yes?"

"Cameron Winklevoss."

"Hi"

"Tyler Winklevoss"

"Are you guys related?"

"That's good. That's new. We haven't heard that one before."

"Are you friends with the person I just poured coffee on?" Because the guy deserved it for being such a fucking asshat. She's not going to apologise to him. Or anyone. Including her former manager.

They shake their heads. Mark asks them what they want.

"We have a proposition for you."

They take Mark to the bike room of Porc. The Bike Room of Porc. They say things like:

"We heard how much you want to get into Final Clubs—"

"—you know we can't take you in the club itself but if you want, Divya, or my brother, or myself would — how do you say this—"

"—I'll take you to dinner and we'll talk about TheFacebook and you'll be an official Big of the club. In the Admin."

Like:

"As long as you're with me. Or my brother—"

"—no one would question your presence in the club—"

"—And we'll give you money—"

"—for TheFacebook."

And they close it with:

"We all know that girls—"

"—Not to put anything indelicately—"

"—Girls aren't taken seriously in this kind of business."

"So we'll help you get in the Porc, and we'll help finance the site, and we'll do the talking for you"

"We'll talk shares tomorrow night. Dinner. Our treat. What do you say?"

Narendra offers her a smile. She's seen him around Dworkin. Mark's known in Harvard for FaceMash, CourseMatch, and TheFacebook, but she's a _celebrity_ in Dworkin.

"Wow. You'd do that for me?"

They exchange a look. "Yes, we would."

She smiles at them and reaches in her hoodie pocket for the footlong sandwich they handed her earlier.

Mark gently peels off the wrapper and starts caressing the sandwich suggestively.

Then she squeezes the footlong and tears it apart with one hand all the while looking straight at their shocked faces as the crushed pieces of the sandwich fall on the wooden floor of the most prestigious Final Club's bike room.

Mark sends them another saccharine smile after wiping her hands clean on one of the Porc club's flags.

She thinks, _girls aren’t taken seriously in this kind of business huh, fuck you_.

Then she thinks, _fuck Harvard, she'll give them a final club the world wants to get in on_.

Mark needs to talk to Eduardo.

  
—————

  
It takes a lot of mental and, ugh, _emotional_ conditioning to prepare herself for talking to Eduardo again.

It's not like she's not aware of Eduardo's, uh, _effects_ on her cognitive behaviour or whatever it is that her mom would send her articles about.

Because the thing is, if Mark would prefer to forgive Eduardo completely, she would actually be able to. _Completely_. Without any trace of bitterness left in her otherwise blackened heart (as Dustin called it during that time Mark told Dustin that she would rather make out with the underside of her desk than make out with him just for the sole purpose of sharing his mono and being miserable with him; they're _friends_ , but Mark felt bad enough that Chris had to take care of Dustin, they don't need another sick person in the suite).

Because, the other things is, Mark actually gives a lot of fucks about Wardo. Like, her cup of care for Eduardo is filled to the brim, threatening to overflow with the slightest tremble of a hand. And that's the reason why Mark can honestly say she's _angry_ at Eduardo.

She's angry at him not because of what he said but because he even managed to say it.

Because she cares a lot about him and he's her best friend and yet he's the reason why Mark feels so fucking ugly at the moment. She had never felt pretty or beautiful to begin with aside from mornings when she was sure she had dried drool on the side of her lips yet Eric would still look at her as if she's something to behold of (and it's been so long since Mark even woke up with Eric anyway), so to hear and _know_ from Eduardo's very own lips, that he thinks of her that way— that she's a heartless bitch who can't even seem pretty, much less look pretty, it takes every fibre of Mark's being not to start falling apart. So she gets angry instead. Because it's either get really angry or get slightly angry and fall apart.

He made her care about him enough to actually forgive him for being the jackass that he had been when Mark shouldn't even need to forgive him about anything because he shouldn't have done anything that he knows would hurt Mark anyway— Mark, who he claims to be his best friend.

So Mark, if you want the condensed version of how she feels about Eduardo, _is angry_.

But not for the reasons people might think.

Except now her anger at him takes the backseat, replaced by a much less complicated but not any less soul-consuming anger towards a different person. Or persons.

The Winklevi and their bitch.

Or Narendra and his bitches.

Whatever.

Because a person does not need to be a complete activist to feel indignant over the fucking nerve of those assholes.

So when Mark basically puts the anger she felt for them front and centre in her mind, it doesn't take long for Mark to feel like she's ready to face Eduardo without risking any unplanned castration on his person.

That doesn't stop her from gritting her teeth when he comes flying into the suite a few minutes after she sent him a text that basically said I need you even if Mark knows he'd be in this AEPi party.

"Mark," he says by way of greeting. She's surprised he's not in his suit but in a ridiculous straw hat and a ridiculous polo instead. He does a ridiculous sort of dance as he makes his way to where Mark is sitting in front of her computer. She can smell vodka.

Mark says, "I need you."

And Wardo says, "I'm here for you"

Mark grips the edge of her table so she wouldn't accidentally get consumed by the incredible sense of LOL RUSRS and _love_. She immediately logically debates with her own brain that those feelings can go fuck themselves and cancel each other out, thank you.

She beckons Eduardo to her and points at the screen.

"Shit. That looks good, Mark," he whispers and Mark tries not to shiver from the warm breath that grazes the back of her neck. Eduardo leans down ever further and squints at the 'Relationship Status:'

"Do you, I don't know how else to say this but I want you to be my CFO. You'll manage the finances and the budgeting and I don't know what else, you do the business end, I don't know much about it,"

Mark can see Eduardo staring at her from the corner of her eyes.

"Mark"

"Wardo, I'm asking you because you're my best friend. Because it's you I want to be business partners with." Mark might be angry at him but she's not going to deny that for all the anger she has towards him, she still feels, _ffffuuuu_ , she still likes Eduardo. Enough that she wants to share this with him because she wants them to have something to be proud about together along with Chris and Dustin. "This is like the Final Clubs only we're the president. Don't you see? This is _ours_ , Eduardo."

Eduardo remains quiet and Mark is about to swallow another boulder in her throat ( _fucking boulders of angst_ ) when she feels his lips graze the side of her neck.

Mark's body is stupid enough to love it so much, even her _toes_ curled.

She jerks back, though, a second later, and stares at Eduardo trying vehemently not to touch her neck like all the cliches she seen in every chick flick film Eric forced her to watch as punishment every time he wanted to go out and she wanted to stay home in front of her laptop. "Wha—"

But he kisses her again, only this time it's on her lips and Mark's arms (fucking _traitors_ ) fly around Eduardo's neck and she allows him to lift her off the seat until she is standing on her toes and clutching his hair and basically trying to, what, climb into his mouth? She doesn't even know but she tries and succeeds to make the kiss as NC 17 as possible.

Eduardo pulls away first and Mark buries her fingers into the hair on the back of his head.

"What's that?"

He smiles like he's amused. "A kiss"

She doesn't exactly know what exactly about those two words that basically highlighted her anger towards Eduardo and the general male population of the world but it was enough to make Mark step away from Eduardo, pull her fist back, and punch him in the face.

" _Ow_ , what's the for?" He slurs out as he doubles over in pain whilst clutching his nose.

"What the fuck was that?" Mark tries not to wince at the hysteria in her voice. "If you say 'a kiss' again, I will destroy your life."

"Mark—"

"No, shut up, you won't distract me with this. Do you want to be my CFO?"

"You punched me"

"I will punch you again. CFO. Yes? No?"

"I can't believe you just punched me"

"Fuck you, you deserve a lot more, asshole. CFO. Answer."

Eduardo finally straightens up and his nose is looking very very red and Mark feels simultaneously proud and awful. (For fuck's sake, how many feelings can Eduardo confuse her with?)

"Yeah, Mark, I'll be your CFO"

"Good," Mark nods stiffly for the lack of anything else to say. Then she doesn't exactly know what to do with herself so she just sits back down on her computer and starts copypasting the ready-made code for the masthead with Eduardo's name in it.

He looks over her shoulder again and Mark tries not to flinch away. Eduardo immediately puts up two placating hands. She calms down enough not to feel like elbowing him.

"Eduardo Saverin, Brazilian Mafi— Mark," he chides but it doesn't sound mean. Mark refuses to backspace and continues typing. "Cee Ef Oh," he reads when Mark refreshes the page. "Mark, you have no idea what that's going to mean to my father."

And Mark could be the insensitive, heartless bitch people tend to categorize her in and she could lash out vindictively from anger, but this is something Mark knows and isn't embarrassed to admit she knows: the relationship between Eduardo and his father is not like the relationship she has with her father. Most of Mark's confidence in her skills are because of her parents' openness to giving compliments when the person deserves it. They're not afraid to tell you when you've fucked up, and they don't exactly give away compliments, but Mark feels it in the way her mom calls her Marcella (the only person who can call her that and not get glared at) and in the way that her dad calls her Mark, tone fond and completely dedicated. Eduardo, from what Mark can tell from the stories they shared when they're in her room too lazy to do anything but exchange anecdotes about their homes, doesn't have that. And Mark doesn't have the right to make him feel bad for something he couldn't help.

She looks up and meets Eduardo's eyes; takes in his nose that's starting to swell, the curve of his lips, and the lines that appear on the corner of his eyes when he's giving her a look of awe that never fails to make Mark's heart stutter. She feels the coils of anger in the pit of her stomach, unsated and still waiting for something to wreck; she feels the sharp stabs of fierce protectiveness in her gut that makes Mark want to build them a safe house big enough for four. "Sure I do."


	5. Chapter 5

  
Mark knows herself enough to say that she hasn't forgiven Eduardo yet. For one, she still mostly thinks of him as _Ed_ uardo with a really bitter tone. And also she can still feel the irrational need to, Mark doesn't even know, break him like he's broken her? Which, yeah, ridiculous because she doesn't feel broken at all. Broken would mean feeling it in a sense that she can't function well. But it's more like she's waiting for the right time to get even and make him feel as bad as he made her feel. She doesn't need anyone else to tell her that that's not much of a healthy thought towards her best friend but whatever.

She mostly just shoves everything she feels and thinks about anything other than TheFacebook (including the kiss which he seems to have magically forgotten about but if he's not talking about it then she's certainly not going to think about it) into the back of her mind where she won't have to be plagued by them whilst her fingers are busy flying on the keyboard on her now newly improved website, thanks to Eduardo's help.

On the night it goes live for all the Boston-area schools and on its way all the way across to the Pacific, Mark lets Eduardo take her out to dinner after he asked a few minutes after she pressed Enter.

Mark would say she's excited and ecstatic about this; she even pulled out a t-shirt that actually fits her and not just hangs around her frame. Then she jumps back in to the skinny jeans Marilyn didn't want back because of her vomit-germs (even if Mark knows the real reason is Marilyn wants her to own actual trousers). Though she sticks to wearing the really worn-out sneakers that she had since Exeter because she'd rather not be reminded of that night much, it's still a pretty big deal that she's wearing shoes.

Except when she meets Eduardo at the bus stop so they could take the T together to this place outside campus that all the H kids on TheFacebook are talking about, Christy is with him. Mark feels a little betrayed but she's not going to let that ruin her night especially when people stare at her with awed eyes because of what she accomplished rather than what she's wearing. Mark's pretty sure that there's nothing special about her shirt, jeans, and Converse so it's not like it's anything else especially when —

"Excuse me. Mark?" says a guy from the group who just hustled up to where Mark is trying to look busy texting someone important when she's just actually trying to tell Marilyn that she might need her assistance so she won't look like the third wheel for the rest of the night and right at the moment as they are waiting for the bus.

Mark looks up. "Yeah"

"I'm Stuart Singer. I'm from your OS lab."

"Sure"

Another guy from his group chimes in with " _Awesome job_ with TheFacebook, Mark. Awesome. I'm Bob." he holds out his hand and Mark stares dumbly at it, unwilling to let go of her phone or pull out her other hand from the front pockets of her jeans.

"How you doin?" She asks instead, trying to at least tilt her lips to the side.

"I was wondering if you'd like to grab some pi—"

"— _Alright_. Thanks guys." Bob and his friends blink up at Eduardo who appears right by Mark's side, wrapping a casual arm around her shoulder and leading her to the bus that just arrived. She tries not to shrug him off. "Let's go, Mark. Bus is here. Christy."

Christy shares a look of contempt with her then they quickly look away from each other so they could pretend they didn't just agree on something or actually communicated without words.

Mark reigns in her anger and tells it that if it wasn't for Eduardo, people wouldn't recognise her genius.

  
—

  
They arrive at the bistro and Mark is about ten seconds away from just throwing her steak knife to either Christy (who won't stop talking) or to Eduardo (who won't stop pressing his knees against _hers_ from across the table).

"Mark?"

Mark stiffens and looks up to find Eric smiling down at her. It's a smile that basically screams _go with it_.

"Um. Hey yeah." she greets awkwardly because it will probably never get not-awkward for them. Not to Mark when she knows Eric is one of the few people who's seen her naked, or seen her crying, or seen her naked and crying. They're better with each other now, though, so Mark makes an effort to at least acknowledge that they're friends. She's rather proud of that. "Eric."

"Saverin, and his girlfriend, I presume?"

Christy extends her hand and shakes his. "Yeah. Christy."

"Pleasure. Anyway, Mark, can we talk? By the bar?"

Eduardo looks as if he's about to say something in behalf of Mark without even consulting her for it which would have been the second time he did that on the same night starting from when he cut off "awesome job" Bob. That's probably the reason why Mark hurries to stand up and leads herself to the only empty stool on the bar.

She hasn't started asking when Eric explains his behavior with "I'm making him man up," with a slight anger mixing with his tone.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Eric walks into her space and Mark parts her legs instinctively. He huffs out a laugh and puts his hands on her thighs.

She tries not to think about how long she's been touched. (Since Eric broke up with her.)

"Uh, don't you have a girlfriend?"

"No"

"Well what about the one you were with in Shay's some time ago?"

"Give me some credit, Marcella. We were together for more than two years, I couldn't have gotten over you that fast even if I wanted to."

"But you said—"

"I know what I said. I lied. I was trying to get over you. It was just a date."

"Um, I honestly have no idea what to say to that. Anyway, what _man up_? Who told you we'd be here?"

Eric nods over his shoulder. Marilyn raises a bottle of Beck from the other side of the room.

These conniving _assholes_.

"Have I ever told you how terrifying it is that you're somehow partners in crime with Delpy now?" She asks as Eric walks even further in her space. Eduardo is glowering from their table.

"You attract a terrifying crowd, what can I say?" Then a second later he says, "wait, I actually have something to talk about other than to make Saverin jealous. Do you know Sean Parker?"

"The Napster guy? I've heard about him. Why?"

"Yeah, he wants to meet you."

 _What_? "What?"

Eric chuckles and Mark can feel his fingers on her thighs pull her even closer until their crotches are touching. Mark isn't even bothered, surprisingly. "Guess which BU student got completely shitfaced with him a few days ago."

"What? _How_?"

Eric tells her about how he went down to New York with Marilyn to accompany her in applying for an internship at some firm (which Mark would have to ask about later because _what_ ) and how he went out to a bar and met Sean Fucking Parker who borrowed his phone to call car service and ended up seeing Mark Zuckerberg on Eric's list of recent calls.

"He said, 'wait, Mark Zuckerberg wouldn't be the _guy_ who invented The Facebook, right?' and I told him—no wait stop grinning like that it's scaring me. Ow wait stop. Your bony hand hurts okay." Mark stops trying to punch him. "I told him you are actually a girl then he gave me his number and told me to give it to you because he's impressed and would like to, I don't know, congratulate you or something"

"Are you shitting me? Because this isn't something I would want to shit about around me, Alright" Mark warns, squinting her eyes at him menacingly. It does fuck all, as usual.

"No, _here_ ," he grabs his phone from his pocket and allows Mark to copy the number on hers. "So. BU 1 Harvard 0."

"Actually, that's BU 1 Harvard _fifty thousand_ " but she's smiling and Eric's smirk turns to a soft look Mark recognises as the one from those With Dried Drool mornings. She doesn't give a shit, Eric is _awesome_.

"TheFacebook's really impressive, Mark," Eric adds. Mark feels even prouder of herself. "It's almost enough to make me less bitter of all the times you chose code over sex."

No one is as surprised as Mark when she actually throws her head back and starts laughing. Then there is an Eduardo-shaped blur on her left, followed by a Christy-shaped blur and the blurs are about to disappear inside the ladies' washroom.

Eric looks pleased with the development but before Mark could even think about what sort of action she should take about Eric being _pleased_ for them, Eric starts pulling her off the stool and dragging her. "Show's not over yet, Zuckerburger," Eric whispers upon entering the same washroom. Mark pretends not to see Christy's knees are about to hit the floor through the gap below the partitions.

Eric pulls her inside the cubicle right next to where they are in.

Well.

He was about to lean down and kiss her but he stops, questions in his eyes and Mark feels fucking _proud_ of Eric for being a decent human being and not just making split-second decisions without asking her if she's willing to. Mark nods breathlessly and Eric starts grinding against her leg and biting her in the same spot he always bit her in since he discovered that it makes Mark moan like a whore. Wait, no, not like a whore because Mark can hear Chris scoff in her head screaming _slut-shame_. She does moan though. Loudly. There's that.

"Eric—" because she's getting turned on even if she's pretty sure she shouldn't. But it's not her fault that she can feel Eric's boner okay, it's not like she didn't actually love sucking his dick before.

Something hard collides on the wood Mark's leaning on. Eric starts more or less laughing against her skin. She hears Christy snap out a "what the fuck, Wardo?" Then the door of their cubicle is suddenly being yanked hard and she's worried that it may get pulled off its hinges.

Eduardo starts knocking loudly. "Mark!"

Eric starts shaking quietly with his face smushed against the sleeve of Mark's shirt.

" _MARK_!"

Eric straightens up, tries to stop his face from contorting with laughter, and unlocks the door. The sight of Eduardo with an unzipped trousers greets them. He looks really fucking angry.

Eric asks "what?"

Wardo reaches forward and pulls Mark out the cubicle. "We're going, Mark"

"Are you kidding me? I was about to give you a _blowjob_!"

"Yeah, man, why don't you go take Christy home? The T stops its rounds 1:30, which, an hour from now. Mark can stay at my apartment."

Mark's brain, which can normally multitask, decides to process _wait, Eric has an apartment, what?_ of all things. She stands next to where Christy is. They both shrug at each other.

"No," Eduardo grits out. "I'll take her home."

"No, man, it's totally cool if you want some alone time with Christy."

"That's okay, let's go Mark"

"Look, _Saverin_ ," Eric's voice is suddenly incredibly serious and loud that Eduardo stops trying to pull Mark and they all stay still. "Man the fuck up." Then he turns to Mark and wipes the shine of spit he left on Mark's neck with his thumb.

Eduardo's nostrils flare.

Christy throws her hands up. "Look, you know what, I don't give a fuck. I'm going."

"Wha—"

"No, you benevolent cowardly deer," Mark tries not to find that funny. Christy continues, "I'm _done_. I'm breaking up with you." then she is pulling the scarf she has around her neck and throwing it at Eduardo's face. "Choke on this ugly ass cloth, asshole," she yells before striding out the door and slamming it close.

There are a few seconds of silence that Eric breaks with an awkward " _uh_ , yeah". He sends another glare Eduardo's way. "If you fuck this up…" he trails off sounding incredibly menacing. Then he says the same thing to Mark before slapping her arm as if he hadn't just been thrusting against her leg and biting her neck.

"I believe this is BU 2 Harvard 0. Don't say I never gave you anything, Marcella."

Then he is following Christy out and locking the door behind him.

Well.

Awkward.

—

The first thing Mark says is " _You dick_ ". Because it's like that one time someone who's friends with Eric passed her a note in OS class with U Cunt written across it. Mark doesn't exactly know why that pissed her off the way it did but it was enough to push her to making Facebook so she supposes it must be something. (Maybe it's the horrible grammar.)

It doesn't seem to have an effect on Eduardo though. Mark should probably say that if it were a different scenario, she would have been distracted by his antigravity hair and the unzipped trousers and the general puffiness of his lips but Mark feels something in herself settle enough to concentrate on the fact that Eduardo is a fucking dick. So that's what she says.

Eduardo can't seem to form words and Mark is incredibly frustrated because not only has she been asked out, then apparently asked out to third wheel on a date, then asked out by her exboyfriend who then gave her enough to want to fuck right now, then asked to get the fuck out the cubicle by the one who she originally wanted to spend the night not being a third wheel with. She is fucking horny but her emotions are getting in the way and if Mark is still prone to making snap judgements (she is) she would not care who she has sex with tonight as long as someone fucks her properly.

"You're a fucking dick, and I hate you."

But she kisses him savagely anyway.


	6. Chapter 6

If she's being honest with herself, the reason why she didn't actually shower two days prior to meeting with Sean is because she wants him to know she isn't a business woman first and foremost. She is a coder and she is The Coder. Mark takes the time not to look at least half as good as what she usually looks like (which isn't any good at all so she is talking about being even more ugly-looking than usual) so Sean wouldn't get any ideas.

What ideas she doesn't want Sean to be getting is something she doesn't even know herself. Just that it's somehow important that she sees his reactions to her descent to an unhygienic life.

Eduardo tries to coach her into at least wearing deodorant because apparently she's starting to smell even if Mark doesn't even sweat at all.

(Mark tries not to think of what they've been doing as dating though. Since the night Eric basically set them up in a trap, she and Eduardo had been hanging out and trying to at least find middle ground in the shenanigans they led themselves in. She thinks she's starting to think crazy because she has three Wardos in her brain: Business-partner Eduardo, Questionable best friend Eduardo, and Questionable boyfriend Eduardo.)

Mark relents with the deodorant but fends off Eduardo's tries to make her look more "civilised". Which Mark bristled at because she's supposed to be the one who's tactless between them yet Eduardo's the one who says things that more or less makes Mark want to throttle him. Which she does so except she doesn't throttle him with her hands but chokes him with her words instead.

Sean is, well, if Mark had a cock, it would be hard and _leaking_ right now. Except it's a boner not for wanting Sean, but for her wanting to be like Sean; suave, confident, cool in his skin because he knows he's the shit.

And really, if Sean thinks he's the shit and he just cofounded Napster which eventually died, Mark would be infinitely better than him because she's a woman and in an industry mostly dominated by chauvinistic men, that's enough of a reason to be _The_ Shit. Except then she won't just be a woman but a woman who has access to information all over the fucking world if she chooses to without even leaving the confines of her room or even standing from her bed.

TheFacebook is _not_ Napster.

TheFacebook is _better_ than Napster because TheFacebook is hers.

Sean says things like _a billion dollars_.

And _ending the party in eleven_.

And _Palo Alto is where it's at_.

And when Eduardo tries to pull down her shirt as it rides up her waist, Sean says _this fuck you attitude you have is pretty hot_.

And finally, _Get rid of the 'the'_.

Mark is, for the next few weeks after meeting Sean, _hooked_. She is obsessed about being the better Sean Parker because Sean is fucking awesome but Mark can be so much better than him.

She gets more and more frustrated with Eduardo who won't shut the fuck up with the articles he's read about Sean and saying things like "he looks like he can't be trusted, Mark" and "Mark, he's a fucking pig" which, how hypocritical is that?

Mark ignores the jibes because she can't let what she feels for Eduardo ruin this. She's on a roll and she's moving to Palo Alto not a month from now and she's probably going to have time after The—no, Facebook. Just _Facebook_ now and Sean is so right, it sounds neater and users are already congratulating her for it. When she walks in Dworkin, when she tries to buy beer (she doesn't get carded now), when she even walks out of the suite people would say 'hey Mark' because they're trying to get to her good graces now because they know Facebook is fucking gigantic.

"When did you decide to move to California?" Eduardo asks her during the time she allows him to pull her away from the table and push her down the bed.

They haven't gone past kissing and fondling because Mark seriously feels like all the libido she's been trying to release have packed their shit up converted themselves into codes that make her website even more fucking brilliant.

"Long time ago?"

"Really, or was it during the Sean Parker variety hour?"

She doesn't think he has the right to be jealous when he's made her go through far worse.

Eric calls her to ask about what happened with Sean and what happened with Eduardo. She tells him about Sean but completely honestly forgot about the second question until Eric goes quiet and tells her to start explaining herself as soon as possible.

He says "are you sure you're not just doing this to make Eduardo jealous?"

Which is as hypocritical as when Eduardo tried to tell Mark about Sean's ways with 'the ladies' because uh, _who was the one who humped her leg in the first place_?

"Mark, you— you know what, no, this is on you now. I've done my part."

"I didn't ask for your help"

"I helped because I'm your _friend_ and that's what friends do or is the concept of friendship too complicated for you to understand?"

"I thought you didn't want to be my friend?" because he did say that.

Eric makes a sound that makes Mark clutch her phone tighter. He drops the call.

She thinks about calling him to apologise but she doesn't know what she needs to apologise for so fuck it, she needs to code a ton of shit and do another bug fixing anyway.

Mark is aware that she is getting more and more frightening with the way she snaps at everyone who tries to tell her what they think she should do because they don't have the right to tell her because she's herself. Who gives a fuck if people think she's a bitch? Mark is done doing things for people who tries to change her.

She tells Eduardo they need more money for the interns and invites him to watch them desperately trying to get a job with Facebook. It's like hazing, only they're doing something fucking awesome and when Eduardo hands her an envelope, Mark feels like her heart's going to burst but she gets called away because someone won and then the people are celebrating like they just got into the Porc only _better_.

Mark turns and smiles at Eduardo because this is fucking it. _Eduardo_ , she tries to say, _Eduardo this is ours. This is it. This is ours._

She tries to say _I love you. I love us. I love what we can do together_ but her face hurts too much from smiling and Eduardo is stumbling forward and just kissing her and kissing her and kissing her like she hadn't yelled at him; like she hadn't been vindictive towards him; like she didn't lock Eduardo out of her room when he's been trying to get her to eat.

And Mark is so happy. For the first time in a while, she is so fucking happy and she feels so fucking beautiful because they're kissing and they're surrounded by people who wants to get into something they created and Mark feels like this maybe the right time for her to forget about every bitterness she has over him pre-Facebook, because this is theirs, now. This is theirs and she'll make it last forever.


	7. Chapter 7

  
If someone told Mark her fingers would be twitching with the need to _throttle_ a fucking chicken the day before, Mark would hand them her mother's calling card.

But she thinks if this fucking chicken doesn't stop staring at her with its beady judgmental eyes as she tries to ask Eduardo to leave it here so he could take the plane with her to California, she's going to throw it out the window. "I'm going to throw that fucking chicken out the window," she snaps out. Eduardo tries to cover his laugh with a cough.

Dustin blinks up from where he's currently resurfacing from being wired in and "what's a chicken doing here?"

They both ignore him.

Dustin smiles at them anyway. "Um. Okay." then he tunes them out and turns back to the computer.

"Are you seriously telling me you can't go to California because of a fucking chicken?"

"Mark, it's for the Phoenix"

"Which you won't have to be in because you have Facebook"

"Mark, my father—"

"Is not here. And besides what is the Phoenix club when Facebook will earn you a shit ton of money? Wardo, I don't care about the money, take them. I just need— I just want to have this. With you."

"Mark, I want that too"

"So why won't you go with me?"

They hear Chris growl in frustration before a huge _The Complete Illustrated Stories, Plays, and Poems of Oscar Wilde_ hardbound book comes flying in their direction. It hits Dustin's head instead.

  
—

  
The article about forced cannibalism gets published a few days after.

Mark finds it so funny because _forced cannibalism_. With _the_ _chicken_. And even funnier with the look of incredulity on Eduardo's face. "I told you that bird is bad news," she mutters out less bitterly as she would have liked because Eduardo clutches his hair in frustration and it's so fucking adorable. She repeats "Forced cannibalism, Wardo." just cause she likes seeing Eduardo look a little unhinged.

Mark sucks Eduardo's cock later that night because she can't believe he's choosing the fucking chicken over her. He makes a choked sound his cock touches the back of her throat. She does it several times, enjoying the weight of his dick on her tongue.

"You're good at this," he says visibly restraining himself from fucking her throat.

Mark makes a humming noise and reaches for Eduardo's hand so she could put it on her head to see if he takes the hint.

He fucks her mouth after that, guiding the rhythm with his hands wrapped around Mark's hair. When Eduardo comes, she swallows some down and lets the rest coat her face, milking his cock with her hands until he's done riding out his orgasm. Then she coats two fingers with the come on her face and fucks herself with them without breaking the eye contact she has with Eduardo. Mark comes with Eduardo's name at the tip of her tongue and his come inside her.

The chicken squawks like a fucking pervert.

Mark flips it off and passes out.

  
—

  
The day of their flight to California, Mark still can't believe Eduardo's choosing the _chicken_ over her.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to California with me?"

Eduardo stands at the curb of the street where Dustin and a bunch of other interns are loading the taxi with their luggages.

"Mark, I just— I'll be there as soon as I can, okay?"

The driver won't allow the chicken in his taxi so Eduardo can't even go to the airport with her. She rises on her toes because Eduardo is a fucking tree and licks into his mouth.

She doesn't watch as Eduardo's reflection on the rearview mirror grows smaller and smaller.

She's surprised to find Eric waiting for her by the gate of the boarding area. She doesn't need to ask how he knows.

"Where's Saverin?"

"What are you doing here?"

"Making sure you won't come bothering me again," but he hugs her and tells her to move fast and break things then he yells "I'm still your friend, asshole!" before the automatic doors slides themselves shut.

  
——

  
Eduardo is not there when Sean manages to do the job he was supposed to be doing.

He's still not there when Mark had to explain who he is after _who the hell is Eduardo Saverin?_

She leaves _Wardo, is that fucking chicken still alive?_ in his voicemail.

Then leaves _Wardo, Sean may have gotten us an angel investment and it's just — it's just you we're waiting for here. I want— Facebook needs you_.

Then leaves _seriously, come here, Wardo, I need you_.

He doesn't.

Mark tries not to think about Caribbean night with Eduardo's flushed cheeks and _I'm here for you_. Then she sees someone from the Phoenix club update his Facebook. Eduardo is in the pictures. He looks like he's in New York with his Phoenix club friends, a petite girl by his side.

When Sean starts talking about these 'tricks' that would that would fuck Eduardo out from her company, she takes down some notes.

Mark asks Marilyn if the plan is safe and if it's possible that Eduardo would get the amount he deserves but would ultimately be out of Facebook for good.

"Mark, I need you to listen, and I need you to listen carefully. As a practicing lawyer, I am telling you that this will lead into a law suit and you will have to depose and I know you're doing this so he would be out of your life so you could pretend you don't love him — _no_ , Mark, your life is Facebook, you use Facebook as an excuse so he'd be there with you — but it will go the exact opposite of that. There will be depositions and you will have to deal with each other without dealing with each other and Mark, trust me, you will regret it"

She doesn't get a chance to butt in because Marilyn continues with "As a _friend_ , I am telling you this is an extremely idiotic move. You will not set up the man you love— no shut up, you love him — you will not because it's a double ended dildo except with sharpened edges. Mark, if you fuck Eduardo up, you also fuck yourself up, _how have you not noticed that_?"

Which, yeah. Considering. Mark thinks about all ways things could have gone if they didn't deliberately go out of their way to hurt each other. Mark thinks of how Eduardo could have slammed her laptop on her table so he'd get her attention and tell her what he wants. And Mark could probably have just told him in a few words how she's completely fucking in love with him.

"I think he has a girlfriend."

"No, he doesn't. He doesn't know what he wants, Mark. Or he doesn't think he deserves to have what he wants"

"What do I do then?"

"What you should have done years ago"

"What?"

" _Get him_. Not passive-aggressively but actually telling him you want him because you both deserve to et what you both want. You're CEO, bitch. No time for this pettiness."

She sends Marilyn a copy of the contract before Mark signs it the next day, having her remove the clause that gives out shares the four of them (Eduardo, her, Chris, and Mark) have yet to discuss about. Namely, _Sean_.

He acquiesces.

500 thousand dollars and it's only the beginning.

A few hours later, she's hacking a few accounts on Facebook with an intent to find out where Eduardo would be tomorrow evening. He's still in New York, apparently. Then she hacks into the hotel's systems and looks for his room number.

Next, she goes on a shopping website to look for the shoes she would like and buys out the recommended dress and accessories that the site offers then pays extra for within the next morning delivery.

Finally, she buys a plane ticket and spends the whole night listening to Marilyn's instructions on how not to accidentally slice herself with disposable razors.


	8. Chapter 8

Mark was never one for being uncomfortable around guys because she's generally uncomfortable around everyone but less so with people who knows her habits of being a complete slob (she doesn't give a fuck about opinions most of the time except when she starts to genuinely care about said person) and besides she has two brothers and an older sister who may as well be her older brother so it's not like she's not used to seeing boys being boys.

She had walked in on her older brother masturbating once. Mark thinks it's the reason why she actually made an effort to pick up on languages just so she could cuss in other more apt languages when English just cannot express her disgust alone. And generally, Mark's been lucky enough not to experience anything that can quantify to harassment because men usually thinks she has a bigger dick than them.

Mark does. She's not even lying. The only woman in the house yet she's the Head Bitch in Charge.

She doesn't resent being the only one with a vagina except for those women that Sean brings with him once in a while. She doesn't judge them; if they want to have fun, then they may do so. They know what they're doing.

Sometimes, though, when Mark would be completely exhausted teetering on passing out, Dustin would always be the one who would lead her to her bedroom then lock the door behind him after he leaves. Dustin would also be the one who would hand her her unopened can of beer; it shouldn't be questioned. The one time on of the interns put an opened bottle of Beck next to Mark whilst she was coding, Dustin went into HulkSmash mode.

Anyway as she was saying, she's not _resentful_ of being the only constant woman in the house. Except she needs one right now. Mark's flight is four hours away and she's got everything taken care of except for her make up because: 1) Mark doesn't see the point in buying make up when she's only ever going to use it once. 2) She doesn't even know how to apply make up 3) Randi has her own set at home so it's not like she can't borrow from Randi if ever she needs one again.

Mark tries to look as nonchalant as possible when she goes out her room and for the first time found herself wishing Sean brought someone home.

She sees a girl donned in full Stanford gear and Mark's pretty sure this one's the longest one that lasted around this house without fleeing the next day. Aby? Amy? Mark remembers having a drunken conversation with her teaching Mark the correct Parisian pronunciations of French words.

"Hey"

The girl looks up from where she had her head in the fridge. "Oh hey, Mark," she looks surprised that Mark's talking to her. Mark can't say she blames her. "What's up?"

"Um— do you have make up?"

"Yeah, sure, why?"

"Um, may I borrow them?"

Amy looks confused but nods anyway. "Sure, come on, follow me."

Mark finds herself given a cheek stain that doubles as lip stain. Mark doesn't even know but Amy shrugs apologetically and tells her she doesn't really have much else with her except face powder (which Mark doesn't need anymore unless she wants her face to be so luminous it glows in the dark.)

Amy doesn't ask questions but she does whistle appreciatively when Mark changes into the dress that got delivered at seven that morning. It's not like Mark can't do this with Dustin or Eduardo or Chris because Chris is usually the one that shoves her into formal looking clothes when she has to meet some 'high authority' like, say, the Ad Board. But it's nice to be appreciated by both sexes without feeling like she's being judged.

Everyone swivels their heads when Mark finally steps out her room to wait for the taxi she scheduled the night before. Their jaws drop.

"Wait what?"

"What in the world?"

"You have legs?"

"When did you grow boobs?"

"What has Amy done to you?" Sean flails out, his eyes going even larger than they already are. Amy smiles and tells him she didn't do anything, actually.

 _CEO, bitch._

"Okay!" Dustin yells from the left. "Interns, stop slobbing on the floor." Then he quietly pulls Mark into the kitchen. Mark isn't even surprised.

"Mark, you look amazing but what are you planning?"

"I'm either going to come back with Eduardo or going to come back with a new CFO." Because Mark isn't really sure if Eduardo is willing to let go of something he's been aiming for since he graduated tertiary school. She doesn't understand his need to please his father but she understands why Eduardo's doing it.

Dustin nods jerkily, never being one to do Chris's job at consoling people. He does pat her in the shoulders and Mark feels strangely fond of him like she does when one of her brothers would do something completely them. "You're my bro, Dustin,"

He snorts out a laugh. "Bros before ho—nonbros."

Mark rolls her eyes and waits for the taxi to arrive.

"Don't burn the fucking house down," she warns. "I'll be back within the day so don't even try anything or I'll ruin your lives."

———

Mark spends the entire flight trying not to back out of her plan because it's dawning to her that what if Eduardo won't come back? Or worse, what if Eduardo just comes back because she looks like this then would leave again when she gets back to her admittedly disgusting personal hygiene?

Then she shrugs and comforts herself that if Eduardo doesn't come back and stay this time around, Mark has complete and total control of shares; she's cutting Eduardo out because this would be the first and last time she's going to go to him after making Mark feel inadequate and stupid.

Her planes lands approximately 6 in the evening and the hotel is thankfully less than an hour away. Mark shows the taxi driver the hotel name and address then quickly punches Marilyn's name on her phone.

"Where are you?"

"Um… I have no idea. But I'll be there in half an hour."

"Okay, good, jesus, I can't believe I'm spying for you. Mark, I hid behind a _plant_ before I remembered he doesn't know me."

"Shut up, Delpy. This is your idea."

Mark tries not to laugh at the mental image of Marilyn hunched behind a potted plant inside the hotel Eduardo's staying in. Mark had to force her to see if Eduardo really is still around.

"Is he there?"

"Yeah, he just arrived with some men."

"And women?"

"Yeah"

"I'll be right there."

"Okay, I'll text you if he leaves the room. They're by the bar but they look like they're planning to leave. Get here soon. If you don't get a text, it means he's still there so you can just stroll up to him. Wait, Mark, do you have a plan?"

Mark looks down herself and feels a photocopy of the contract folded and tucked on the left cup of her bra. "Be CEO, I think."

Marilyn snorts and wishes her good luck.

  
—

  
Mark doesn't get a text so she just sends Marilyn one to tell her she's about to smack some fucking faces down (aka she just arrived and is one her way in the hotel bar) and doesn't even try to hide the fact that she's cursing New York climate as the doorman welcomes her in.

Whatever. It's not like she isn't from Dobbs Ferry (which is possibly inside the freezer all year round). Marilyn corners her before she enters the bar.

"What?"

"He's still there"

"I know"

"Mark, you should know even if I'm telling you to get what you want, sometimes what you want isn't exactly what you need right?"

"Delpy, get to the point, my nipples could cut glass right now."

Marilyn cringes but starts with her unnecessary pep talk. Mark wonders if it's the right moment to ask her if she wants to work for Facebook then thinks otherwise. Maybe later. Or after this. She's going to need Marilyn if Eduardo doesn't go with her anyway.

When Mark walks in, her eyes immediately fixates on Eduardo's anti-gravity hair. And the girl who looks like she's chatting him up. At least Eduardo looks like he's uninterested, just nursing something with an umbrella on the glass ( _reaaaaally_?)

She fumbles for her phone and rings Eduardo to see if he'd pick up. He does.

Mark sees him smile apologetically at the girl before she hears a relieved "Mark, hey," from the other end.

"Hi, Wardo, where are you?"

"I— oh god, Mark, I'm so sorry. I'm in New York"

Mark is surprised he's actually telling the truth thinking he'd lie or something but then again Eduardo never lied to her. Not really.

"What are you doing in New York?"

"The Phoenix has this celebratory thing. Oh god, Mark, I'm so sorry."

"Do you like New York?"

"What do you mean?"

Mark stands by the corner so she's hidden by the dim light and some shadows. "I mean, do you like staying in New York? Because, Wardo, you _can_ stay. In New York. But I'm staying in California."

"Mark, I —"

"Where do you want to stay?" _Do you want to be with me?_

"I—"

"You need to tell me now." Mother of god, her _feelings_ are making her eyes leak a little. Some guy tries to start a conversation with her. She flips him off. "Wardo, do you want to be with me? Because I want to be with you but I can't wait long and I can't stay in East Coast."

"I want to be with you."

Mark watches as Eduardo stands up from his perch completely ignoring the girl and starts walking towards the huge arched window where the tables were empty.

"Then why are you in New York?"

"My father—"

"Has a son who is a CFO of a company who just got an investment of half a million. Eduardo, it's— it's time you decide for yourself."

Eduardo sighs and Mark sees him lean his forehead on the panes. "Mark—"

It seems incredibly stupid to ask now but then _who the fuck cares_ "Do you think I'm pretty?"

"What?"

"When you saw me that night at Shay's you said if I needed to _seem_ pretty, all I had to do was stop being such a heartless bitch"

Mark has to choke down another boulder in her throat as she hears Eduardo moan in despair.

"Mark, I know nothing excuses what I said I know, I'm so sorry. I was just— I saw Albright then I thought you dressed up for him and I got jealous and angry that you didn't tell me you were meeting him."

"What?"

"I saw Albright at Shay's and I thought you invited him over so I told Christy we could go—"

"Still a dick move, asshole. Chris and Dustin were there, if I had invited Eric—which I _hadn't_ —you still could have stayed with Chris and Dustin."

Mark tries not to smile fondly when she sees Eduardo bury his face in his hand. "I know, I know, I'm sorry. I got jealous so I thought I should just go so I could avoid being _really_ jealous. Then I saw you wearing _that_ and got even angrier and more jealous because you shouldn't have to put that kind of effort and stuff. Mark, I'm sorry I even said those I'm just—"

"Wardo, you're so stupid and an asshole,"

"I know"

It makes sense now, a little. Eduardo being a complete dickface after Shay's. Eduardo dating Christy with Mark feeling like third wheel. It's probably some form of passive-agressive revenge—they're alike in that aspect. They could be really petty and want to hurt the reason why they're hurting (ew, _feelings_ ) but it does make sense. And it does feel like something in Mark's stomach unknotted. Mark starts to move towards him quietly.

"Come to California with me"

"Mark"

"This is the last time I'm going to ask you that. If you say no, then I will stop. If you say yes, then yes. Come to California with me. Be my CFO and boyfriend. I know it's not nice to be in a relationship with colleagues but who gives a fuck, I'm CEO. My best friends are CTO and Head of Public Relations. So I don't give a shit if my CFO is my potential boyfriend. I fucking hate that word, by the way. Boyfriend. So you should know this isn't easy for me. Eduardo. I went to you for the money because you're my best friend. The Winklevi wanted in on the company and I could have asked for theirs but I didn't because I want you. So. Come to California with me. I want you with me"

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Mark is close enough that she can see the fog on the glass he's leaning on with his eyes closed. "Yeah, I'll go there. I will."

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

"Will you come back for the Phoenix club?"

"No"

"Harvard?"

"There's always Stanford but we'll negotiate about that when I get there"

Mark can't stop smiling. "Fair enough. Say you'll go to California with me"

"I'll go to California with you."

Mark grins and steps forward even further. "Good, because I would think the effort I put wearing fucking shoes twice would be wasted on you."

Eduardo turns around fast enough that he winces and clutches his neck. Haha whiplash. But then he's looking her up and down with an expression of complete disbelief and ridiculous fondness, Mark can't help but feel like she got another investment.

"Hi, Wardo," she says, dropping the call and throwing her phone in her pocket.

Wardo smiles so brilliantly, Mark thinks a tooth of his could be put on a ring. Um.

"Hey, Mark"


	9. Chapter 9

Remember that time long ago when Mark said this was for a Sociology experiment?

Mark doesn't. But then again, Mark can't even remember her own name because her brain feels like it's leaking out of her skull as Eduardo basically pounds into her.

The only functional words in her head are " _Wardo_ " and " _Harder_ " and " _HARDER_!!!" which are clearly the only words she needs at the moment.

If Mark could be bothered to remember, Eduardo had basically looked like he was about to sing The Sound of Music when he realises that Mark is in New York to fetch him. Mark pretended not to notice and just held out her hand like the gentleman that she is then led him to the bar.

Marilyn may or may not accidentally bumped into her to squeeze her ass in congratulation.

"Dearest of the Phoenix Club," Mark had said after some guys from the Phoenix Club starts asking _holy shit are you Mark Zuckerberg, FACEBOOK IS AWESOME_. "If you would please excuse me and my CFO we need to go somewhere to have raunchy sex."

Eduardo's face had suffused with colour but he didn't back down.

Which obviously led to some incredibly hostile dry-humping on the lift as Eduardo jerks her up to his waist and mauls her mouth because they couldn't wait for any padded horizontal surface.

Not that Mark complained.

Not that Mark's complaining right now even after she hit head on the coat hanger stuck behind the door Eduardo pushed her against before they managed to crawl into the bed and rampaged each other on it and—

Oh.

 _Oh jesus._

"Motherfucker," she gasps out as Eduardo drills into her, basically F5-ing her clit with his pelvic bone with every thrust. "Oh, _fuck_ "

"Mark, Mark, look at me," Eduardo sounds so wrecked and breathless and Mark forces her eyes open to watch Eduardo—glorious, naked, sweaty, thrusting. "Mark, oh, Mark."

"If you don't come to California, I will take your dick with me," Mark says, clutching his hair in a way that would be painful but is pleasurable in their current situation. "I will mount it on the wall and—"

"Stop talking"

Eduardo cants his hips and pulls Mark forward until he is basically carrying both Mark's legs and then his thrusts get even faster.

Mark stops speaking.

But only because there are stars behind her eyelids.

  
—

  
"No seriously," Mark gasps out on their third round, now in the bathroom. " _Mine_."

  
—

  
"Oh shit," Eduardo breathes out after he cries a little from the dry orgasm he just experienced.

"Again?"

Eduardo moans in pain and curls up into a ball, hand over his crotch.

"I guess that's a no."

  
—

Mark goes down on him though because it feels good to be a gangster. Eduardo starts crying again only this time he's saying sorry for being such a fucker and sorry for making them both miserable and "could you please stop pushing your tongue in my slit, I have no _labia_."

—

  
"Eduardo, it's five in the morning"

"Why are you awake?" a beat and Mark feels him shuffle away in a rush. "Oh god, I'm not ready yet. Tomorrow afternoon!"

Mark rolls her eyes.

"Do you still want to go with me to California?"

"Ugh, Mark"

"California?"

Eduardo gets this soft look on his face, eyes reflected by the city lights from outside the only window they decided to leave unshaded. She feels his thumb grazing her cheek.

"You're beautiful," he whispers almost in awe.

Mark feels her heart twist inside her chest.

"I love you most like this,"

"What, fucked out by you? Of _course_ "

Eduardo shakes his head. He doesn't even laugh. "Mark, I've been so stupid and I wish I could make it up to you. I wish I could—"

"Wardo, you can make it up to me by going to California"

"I'm already going with you, Mark."

"That's good"

"I love you"

Mark huffs out a laugh and reaches up until she can hold the hand pressed to her face.

"I love you," he repeats. "I think I've loved you for a long time. Even before Albright threw eggs at my window."

"Eric did _what_?"

"Threw eggs at my window for staying with the chicken"

Um.

"I love you," he repeats again. "I said awful things, Mark. I wish I could—"

"No use in that. Just don't do it again or I'll—"

"Punch me in the face?"

Mark winces. "Yeah, about that..."

"No, I deserved it."

"You don't deserve it now?"

"I'm willing to learn how not to."

"That works. I'll try not to punch you in the face. Or be a heartless bitch."

Eduardo grins and leans over to kiss her softly. "I don't know, I like you like that. Except when you're punching me in the face."


	10. Chapter 10

"You put the contract in your _bra_?" Chris splutters from the popcorn he's been wolfing down as Eduardo tells them about how Mark 'stormed in' at the hotel in New York. "What, you never heard of a purse?"

"She's Mark," Dustin explains and throws a pillow at Mark's face where it's smushed against Eduardo's lap. "Do you even own a pu—" then he turns his attention to Eduardo, "wait how did you know Mark put it in her bra?"

Mark groans and decides to just kick Dustin's head where he's sitting next to Mark's feet. "Shut up asshole, you should be coding."

Dustin shrugs and continues to defile the carpet on the huge empty (save for a huge flat screen and the DVD player with Rambo in it) lobby of the new Facebook offices by clipping his nails without any towel underneath whatsoever.

"Why did you put that in your bra?" Chris asks.

"Because I didn't want to accidentally lose it." Mark honestly does not even know why she put the photocopy of the contract in her bra, okay? It's just something people who wear bras do — like sometimes Mark can't be bothered with pockets and just shoves her phone on the band of her bra. Whatever.

"I think I'm going to buy that life-size statue of Darth Vader I saw in downtown LA, you know, when I get my first paycheck" Dustin mulls out a few seconds later. Mark thinks he's starting to talk as disjointedly as Mark's mental process.

Chris snorts out a laugh. "I might buy, I don't know, a jet?"

"Compensating for something?" Mark asks. Chris makes a face.

"I already bought a house"

Mark sits up and boggles at Eduardo. "What?"

He looks a little sheepish.

"I bought a house. Um. To move in. I mean, we could move in. Us four. But I— I wanted to ask you to move in with me first so—"

Dustin pretend-swoons. Chris looks proud.

Mark sort of wants to buy the hotel Eduardo first fucked her in.

—

  
In the end, Eduardo doesn't go back to Harvard or to Phoenix Club. Well, he did eventually go back to Harvard because he wanted to graduate but that didn't happen until he's, like, bordering on 27.

Chris's face when they told him he's going to be alone was enough to make Mark want to move Harvard to West Coast. But then Chris transfers to Stanford and get their own houses because much as they want to stay in one house, Mark still values what little privacy she has left when Dustin once walked in on Mark fucking Eduardo with a strap on.

Dustin mentions the same thing when Chris asked him why he doesn't want to just live together.

"That's pretty hot, though," Chris mumbles. Mark nods.

Mark gets sued by the Winklevi for, Mark doesn't even know, but then they deposed and the court basically went LOL WAT then sent them with their tails tucked between their legs.

She sent them a _congratulations you win at losing_ personalised card when they lost at Henley.

—

  
The first time they fought after Mark fetched him in New York was that time when Sean got really drunk and told a semi-drunken Eduardo about the scrapped plan of getting him fucked from the company.

No, actually, that wasn't really what the fight had been about, but Mark can say it's the icing on the already iced cake.

It starts when Mark sort of forgot about their plans for the night and had stayed in the offices until 2AM, which is six hours too late. She rushes home and finds a table that looked like it's been set at some point. It had candles.

She climbs up their room and thinks of ways to make it up to Wardo except when she gets there, Eduardo's not in it. Actually, he's not in any room. And Mark starts crying even before she realises she's crying which is stupid because she can see that his closet still has his clothes in it. But the thing is, Mark still feels a little abandoned. Which what Eduardo must have felt like when Mark didn't come home on time.

There are no messages on her phone and no voicemails in her inbox.

Mark can't tell when she made that many of close friends that she has to contemplate which speed dial to punch in times of Eduardo-related crisis. 2 for her mom, 3 for Wardo, 4 for Dustin (who fought over it because he's bro- _er_ than Chris. Mark and Chris just shared a look) 5 for Chris, 6 for Marilyn, 7 for Eric, 8 for Amy, and 9 for Sean.

Mark just forgoes calling anyone and just wires herself in because whatever. Fuck everything.

But then she's shaking too much.

Like, legit shaking.

Mark doesn't even know why she's shaking.

Eduardo finds her staring blankly at her screen three maybe four hours later just as the sun is about to rise. He tries to tell her she needs to get ready for work without actually talking to her.

Mark just stands up robotically. She showers, gets dressed, and drives to work.

Eduardo's doesn't go to the offices much, really. He talks to people because he's in charge of that. He sometimes leaves the state to talk to even more people. And he makes investments with app developers that usually gets approved by Facebook. Mark doesn't really give her say it them because people might think she's biased and usually Mark would say she doesn't give a fuck but she doesn't want Eduardo's efforts to feel worth less than they really are.

But Eduardo usually phones her randomly. Everyday. Without fail. She doesn't get a call.

So Mark stays in the offices and stays quiet but doesn't really snap at anyone. She goes through two meetings, a conversation with Steve about the joys of seeing smooth-edged fonts, and a good enough lunch with Dustin and Chris even if they're shooting her wary looks.

When Mark gets home, Eduardo's in the guest room. Mark ignores him and goes to their bedroom.

It goes on for a couple of days.

In retrospect, Mark shouldn't have picked Sean to make sure Eduardo's okay because she shouldn't have been that stupid. Except she is when it comes Eduardo and she didn't want Chris nor Dustin doing the job for her.

That night, Eduardo sort of storms in their bedroom and smashes the laptop she was actually just playing some scripts on. It doesn't stop her from feeling incredibly fucking angry.

Like all the anger she felt since Shay's — which is, what, two or three years ago? But they're all there suddenly, back in the front of her mind like tsunamis raging against her skull.

"What the fuck was that for?" She shrieks, glaring at Eduardo with the force of a thousand fucking eggs that she is suddenly so fucking thankful to Eric for.

"You wanted to dilute my shares to point zero three percent?"

Mark gets tightlipped but doesn't deny it. "Yes, but I didn't go through with it."

"Why did you even think about diluting my shares?"

Mark is so angry. Mark is furious. "Because you weren't there and I didn't think you wanted to be in the company"

"I'm here now"

"Which is exactly why I _didn't_ dilute your shares"

"That makes it alright? That makes it alright that you wanted to _betray_ me at some point? Do you have any idea what could have happened to me? I signed the first contract, Mark. Would you have gone through it if I didn't go back here with you?"

"Yes"

Eduardo starts pacing around, quick strides from left to right and right to left over and over. "I can't believe this." He repeats a few times. Then — "I don't even know why I'm with you"

And isn't _that_ another beautiful moment where Mark is suddenly brought back to the night Eric asked the same thing. And if Eduardo's asking this right now, he might leave her like — Mark is so _angry_.

"You know, at least I didn't go through with it. At least I didn't do it but you— you fucker, you left me so many times and you— you said I'm heartless and you said it like I can't even fucking _seem_ pretty, much less actually be pretty"

Eduardo looks a little shell-shocked but his face contorts. "Mark, I said sorry for that. Jesus. I quit my _life_ for you. I quit my family. My father won't even look at me right now."

"Because your father's an idiot! Wardo, why do you still care about him? You're CFO of a billion dollar company and he's just butthurt that you didn't follow his plans yet you still made it"

"Mark, he's my dad."

"He's an asshole — and what do you even mean you quit your life for me? How was choosing a chicken over me quitting your life for me?"

Eduardo pinches the bridge of his nose as if he can't stand Mark and fuck it, Mark is ready to start leaning her head back just so her tears wouldn't actually start falling.

"Mark, when I was a kid all I wanted to do was to go to Harvard, get into a Final Club, and be a businessman. Those were my _dreams_ , I wasn't in Harvard to prove something to my father, Mark. I was there because those were my dreams. But I'm here right now. With you, because you asked me to. And because I want to but Mark you have to —"

It occurs to Mark that she's probably gasping like a trout right now.

"Mark are you oka—"

"Then _leave_. I'm sorry I _forced_ you to be here"

"Jesus"

"I'm sorry I ruined your dreams, Eduardo. I'm sorry for building us an empire just so we'd have some— Just _leave_."

Eduardo fumbles in his pockets and brings out a small velvet box.

Mark chokes on her words.

"I don't want to leave, Mark. I don't. I want to be here with you. Those aren't my dreams anymore. You are. I don't even know when that happened. Probably when you told me you maced Albright on the night you first met him. _I want to marry you_ , Mark. I want to have children running around and if I could be the one to get impregnated so you wouldn't complain about labour, I would. I want to be here because I love you."

"Then _what are we even fighting about_?"

"I'm not sure you still want me. Now that I'm here."

Mark laughs so bitterly she starts shaking again. "You're so fucking ridiculous. Every time I see you or even smell your perfume, I have to go to my washroom and fuck myself with my fingers imagining them to be yours because I know you couldn't stay long because you have appointments out of state. Wardo, believe me, I still want you."

"But do you want to marry me? Do you love me?"

"I wore a _dress_ for you, asshole."

"I waited a whole night on a fucking chair, staring at a stupid candle, practicing how I'm going to propose to you only to realize you are not going to be home!"

"Wardo. _Wardo_ ," then she is actually crying so hard it's a bit ridiculous. She pushes Eduardo away when he tries to move forward. Mark just stares down her feet and cries over the bits of broken laptop around her.

"Mark—"

"No, shut up fuck you," Mark looks up not even attempting to wipe her face. "Wardo, you have no idea how much I love you but _I'm trying_. Sometimes I feel like my brain is going to dribble out of my ears every time I think about the possibility of you changing your mind and leaving for New York. I'm so fucking terrified that one day you would just stay where you went because you're tired of me. Because I don't know anything about social norms. Because I might have hurt you without knowing I did. You're asking yourself why you're even with me and Eduardo, Wardo, I've always asked that to myself for everyone. I don't know why you're with me. I don't know why Eric was with me. I don't know why Chris, Dustin, Marilyn, Eric, and Sean still want to be friends with me. I don't know because I don't understand why anyone would want to be friends with _me_."

She thinks about what happened with Eric and thinks about it happening to her and Eduardo. She thinks about being friends with Eduardo after and she can't— she wouldn't be able to be friends with Eduardo if they break up. She wouldn't want anything to do with him because it would feel too painful.

"Mark—"

"Ugh, so many fucking _feelings_."

Eduardo laughs a little, walks forward then… kneels down.

Wat.

W

H

A

T

"What?"

"I know this isn't usually how people go about proposing but fuck it. Marcella Elliot Zuckerberg, will you do me the honour of making Miss you Missus me?"

"That's so fucking stupid"

"Mark, you're the most ridiculous person I've ever met. You drool like you're trying to fill an olympic-sized swimming pool. One time you screamed some stupid string of codes when you came instead of screaming my name. More often than not, you leave me with a hard on because something about the chatbox came to your mind when you were sitting on my dick."

Eduardo takes a deep breath then looks at Mark in the eye. "Mark, you also made friends with a few kids who lived on the alley next to McDonalds and ate breakfast and lunch with them for a whole year then paid for their dinner because you were afraid to leave money in case they start buying drugs with it. Then you once got really drunk and told me you sometimes want to erase all the things my father ever said to me because you didn't want me to ever think of myself as inadequate. Jesus, Mark. I love you, so will you marry me?"

Mark reinforms him of his stupidity.

"Just answer the damn question" but Eduardo smiling and Mark probably has snot down her nose.

"Yes. Yes, okay. Okay. I do. I will. I do"


	11. Chapter 11

  
So.

Mark tangos at her own wedding reception.

It's not even a big deal.

Except Eduardo apparently thinks it is because she's wearing heels and Dustin, Chris, Eduardo and pretty much everyone else but Sean and her family are gaping.

Mark blinks up at them when Sean finally stops being a great dance partner. "What?"

"You can dance?" someone from SysAd asks.

"She's CEO, bitch," is what Sean says before giving her a peck on the cheek and doing a mocking bow to where Eduardo is currently trying to pry her away from Sean's body.

  
—

  
When they arrive back from their honeymoon, Mark goes in her office with heels on.

Chris rolls his eyes.

"You know just because we know you can rock it with those heels doesn't mean you need to wear them all the time"

"Shut up, _jealous_ "

  
—

  
Marilyn who is now finished with her practicum and is actually legally hired by Facebook goes into her office and bypasses the boss-employee decorum by being ridiculously obnoxious with her questions.

"So how was the honeymoon, are we expecting tiny Zucks all around?"

"Ugh, shut up, Delpy."

"You didn't tell me you can dance though"

"I don't just dance, I fucking tango. In Louboutins."

"Don't forget to mention how you ripped the skirt of your wedding dress in a show of arrogance" Amy (who Mark hired and is planning to send to France so she could take fucking Sean with her) adds when she pokes his head in. Mark rolls her eyes and motions for her to come in.

"Let's get this over with. Why are you actually here, Delpy?"

"Um."

Amy giggles. Mark wonders when all her accidental friends started working for her.

"Spit it out"

"Um, so, Eric asked me to go out with him"

Mark furrows her eyebrows. "But you are already living with him"

"He never actually asked me out though"

"You are both hypocritical assholes"

"Hey we fixed your life first! Don't sound too appreciative. Anyway is it okay?"

Mark sighs and tries not to look like she thinks Marilyn is being stupid. "Marilyn, I'm married. To _Eduardo_."

Marilyn pouts but looks relieved anyway.

"I told you!" Amy comments usefully.

Then as Marilyn is about to head out with Amy, Mark says "hey, you two," they turn their heads. "Thanks. You know, for this." Mark wriggles her left hand in the air. The ring reflects the light from her monitor.

  
—

  
Later that month before Amy and Sean leave for France, Mark invites them all in their house for a barbecue.

The weather's nice and there were beers passed around which Mark ninja-poured down the soil when she thought no one was looking. Eric's eyes went round as saucers.

Mark shuts him up with a glare then pretends like she’s interested in how Sean proposed to Amy. (He screamed “There’s a snake in here, Amy!” while she’s showering apparently. Her ring was on top of his crotch. Mark’s incredibly thankful for Eduardo.)

  
Much later that month, Mark starts puking her guts out. The first time she pukes is when Eduardo shook her awake for the conference she has to attend. She pukes down his suit jacket.

Chris arrives an hour later in order to yell at her. Eduardo greets him by the door.

"Why are you grinning like a maniac? Wait, why are you not dressed?"

"My Prada’s at the cleaners along with Mark's hoodie and her fuck you flip flops. Because she threw up on them. Earlier. This morning. She was sick. In the morning. Chris!" Eduardo sounds like he's either having a panic attack or planning to kill someone but —"Chris!" he yells all of a sudden then hugs Chris. "I'm going to be a dad! Someone's going to call me daddy!"

Much much later, possibly a year later, as Mark is trying to shit out their baby from their vagina, Chris changes the world with Obama.

Dustin also manages not to faint.

Even much later on the year after, when Mark and Eduardo spends two days holed up in their home because they didn't trust anyone with their baby, not when the baby's sick, they find Dustin, Chris, Chris's boyfriend, Eric, a very pregnant Marilyn on their doorstep, ready to relieve them both so they could sleep. Sean and Amy Skypes every three hours to yell out suggestions until Chris shushes them so tiny Saverin could sleep.

—

  
Mark can still code circles around them. (Her employees feared her after a certain Hackathon night where they challenged her into a duel and she obliterated them all)

She still has the highest fucking IQ among them. She's still a member of MENSA.

 _Microsoft_ is afraid she’d _buy them_ when she’s bored.

 _Google_ is her new Winklevi.

The Harvard network crashed for a website she created when drunk.

She was MVP on fencing and she can fucking tango.

She is a billionaire. So are basically most of her closest friends.

She is _CEO, Bitch_ and will always be CEO, Bitch.

Facebook is The Final Club of all Final Clubs and it has taken over the world.

When someone from Gawker makes fun of her sweatshirt, cargo shorts combo, another someone would hack into their site and make Mark's picture on the front cover of Time (the one where she's holding a globe, wearing heels, and a gown given to her by Michelle Obama, looking at the camera with sup, I'm a billionaire expression her face) their background and put "YOU MUST BE NEW" on their header.

Gawker tries to sue them but they couldn't trace the IP.

It's probably Dustin.

So everything is still pretty much Dustin's fault.

—

Mark buys him the entire Star Wars convention.


End file.
